


Blood On The Ice

by therantygeek



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Jotunn Loki (Marvel), POV Loki (Marvel)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2019-01-07
Packaged: 2019-09-14 08:17:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 51,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16909413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therantygeek/pseuds/therantygeek
Summary: A group of baffling strangers show up to rescue Loki from his imprisonment on Asgard, only to reveal that the would-be king has a kingdom after all, although it isn't exactly what he expected, or wanted. Now embroiled in a battle to save the last of his people on Jotunheim, he faces more choices and challenges than the lesser son of Odin would ever have dreamed...My take on mangling some mythology around for a bit of Loki-centric storytelling, world-building, character-developing fun. Eventual Loki/OC but the romance is far from the main focus on the story.





	1. A Discreet Exit

Another day, another new batch of idiot marauders deposited in one of the cells nearby. The place was getting downright crowded. Surely his illustrious brother had braved, bruised and beaten every last unfortunate in the Nine Realms by now. Yet still the prisoners came.

Loki leaned against the wall, just behind the field that kept him so surely imprisoned in this tiny box, and narrowed his eyes curiously at the departing einherjar. Three of them seemed oddly hesitant to leave, trailing at the back of the rest…and now they'd peeled away altogether just before the main dungeon doors slammed closed.

He lost track of them as they moved off into the mass of cells and was just about to resign himself to boredom once more when the trio rounded a corner to arrive directly in front of him. That piqued his interest anew – some new smuggled diversion from Frigga, perhaps? – but instead of paying him much heed the guards instead went into a brief huddle. After some whispered conversation one of them took off his helmet, revealing a largely clean-shaven face and a crop of sandy brown hair.

'You are Loki, son of Laufey?'

That direct address – the _accusation_ of his true heritage – made Loki's blood boil, but he forced the anger down in favour of a small, bitter smile.

'You must be new. First day?'

'I _told_ you it was him,' one of the others muttered, and Loki barely resisted the urge to strike out at the forcefield in raw frustration. So now as well as a prisoner he was a sideshow, a monster in a box, brought out on feastdays to the gasps of the crowd? What next, would they be smuggling children down into the dungeons to mock him? _Behold Loki Laufeyson, the captive Jotun who thought he was a prince_. _Mind your fingers now, he bites!_

'Shut up and find the controls,' the sandy-haired one snapped at the other who'd spoken.

Loki's anger evaporated instantly, replaced by intrigue. Well, this was a new play. But where would it lead?

'Got it.' The third guard was fiddling with something on the wall out of sight. 'Damned thing!' There was a thump, a fizzing noise, and then the field imprisoning Loki vanished. Two heartbeats later, a klaxon went off.

'Oh, _well done_ , Halvor,' the other helmeted one said, while busily extracting something from under his cloak. 'I _told_ you not to hit it. Calder, we'd better move.'

'Here.' The sandy-haired one – Calder? - took the bundle from him and held it out towards the front of the cell. 'Quickly.'

The unmistakeable sound of a troop of guards hastening back into the dungeons made Loki glance dubiously towards the noise. He flicked the cloth wrap open and found, to his lasting astonishment, his own light leathers and travelling boots.

A sudden roar and the crash of metal on metal from the entrance heralded what sounded like the arrival of a small battering ram but turned out to be a hulking figure in white furs quite literally smashing its way through the einherjar with a two-handed war hammer.

'So much for a discreet exit,' Calder muttered.

With a quick twist of his hands and a little application of _seidr_ Loki changed clothes and stepped down out of the cell. A spear, thrown by one of the more enterprising guards, hurtled past and narrowly missed taking his head off.

'Careful!'

'Put your shield up, idiot! Here, sire, stay behind us.'

The other two false guards had discarded their helmets as well, revealing two dunheaded and bristle-bearded young men who were almost certainly brothers by blood. They moved to flank Loki and raised their – apparently appropriated – shields, which was when the mode of address finally registered in his ears.

 _Sire_?

A low _thunk_ heralded another lance impacting the makeshift barrier.

'Sharding hell! Mind your head, sire. Calder! Are we going to get _out_ of here or just wait until the whole of Asgard runs out of spears?'

' _Not_ helping, Herleif.' This was a female voice, as a rather attractive young woman with bright ginger hair dove out of the crowd. On the way she struck out with a thin sword in each of her hands and all but sliced the knees off an unfortunate pair of nearby einherjar before spinning neatly, putting a foot on the wall to push herself up and nimbly leaping over the pair of interlocked shields.

' _There_ you are, Keila. I don't suppose your dear pater is clearing us a path or anything so useful while he's out there breaking bones, is he?'

'There's a lot _of_ them.' She dodged another spear and then spared Loki a quick glance. 'Is that him? I thought he'd be taller.'

Any reply he might have made was cut off by a loud series of shouts, a strange cracking noise, and then what sounded remarkably like a squadron of einherjar falling to the ground all at once. It rather reminded Loki of a crate of dropped cutlery.

'Now!'

The brothers moved at Calder's shout but kept their shields – and themselves – firmly and obviously between Loki and whatever else might be coming up the corridor. The girl, Keila, fell back to a close rear guard position.

Well, this was _distinctly_ unusual, and more than a little irritating because Loki would have much preferred to slip away by himself more quietly now these bizarre people had conveniently let him out of his cell. Perhaps he still could…but the annoying itch of curiosity bade him linger in order to discover more.

Like, for example, why they were referring to him as _sire_.

The enormous fur-clad figure, up close heavily bearded and half again as big as a man ought to be, was roaring with every sign of enjoyment now as it stood there in the midst of a pile of dead – or certainly badly injured – Asgardian guards. The hammer in its hands would have made Thor's precious Mjolnir look like a child's toy by comparison.

'More coming,' he boomed cheerfully, and gave Loki a cordial sort of nod. 'Can you run, sire?'

'When I've good reason to,' Loki replied, letting the mode of address go for now. 'Where are we running _to_ , exactly?'

'Anywhere not here'll do me fine for now,' Calder interjected. 'Rangvald, stop punting einherjar and get us out of here.'

'Right you are.' Rangvald, as the enormous man was apparently called, promptly turned to stomp back up the steps. He paused briefly to send an unfortunate palace soldier into what would have probably constituted low orbit on any other world, then looked back as the rest of them caught up with him. 'Onward to glory!'

' _Escape_ , pa,' Keila corrected wearily. 'Onward to _escape_.'

'Oh. Well, that too.'

In short order they were racing through corridors at an outright sprint, dodging small groups of nobles and others going about their usual business in the halls. Most of the palace guard had to have been mobilised by now, judging by the veritable floods of gold-armoured figures appearing out of every doorway, and not even Rangvald's enthusiastic hammer swings could stop them all. More than once Loki had to duck or hurriedly sidestep to avoid having something he'd rather not part with sliced off, but somehow they did still seem to be making something like progress.

Then an all-too-familiar thunderclap made the pillars rattle and a quintet of figures appeared in the next archway, barring the path. Rangvald actually paused for a moment and then broke into a grin, brandishing his hammer.

'Finally, some proper warriors! These tin soldiers of yours are pathetic, Asgardians!'

'You shall go no further, strangers,' Thor said gravely. 'By whose leave do you invade the house of the Allfather?'

'The Allfather can suck my-'

'Stand aside, son of Odin,' Calder interjected, rather hurriedly, and Rangvald glared at him. 'We've no quarrel with you or your friends.'

'I beg to differ.' Thor narrowed his eyes and looked past him. 'Loki, step away from them.'

'Ah…' Loki pretended to mull it over '…no.'

' _Loki_ -' ah, there was the familiar tone of frustration, neatly wrecking the great oaf's attempt at what he thought was gravitas '-stand _away_ or we'll-'

'You'll do nothing to him lest you go through us,' Calder barked. Filing that away with great interest, Loki abruptly noticed the trail of frost patterns creeping along the floor in front of the archway.

'You-' Thor blinked in perplexity '- _what_?'

Any further attempts at dialogue were blessedly cut short when, birthed from the _seidr_ -enhanced frost that now covered the floor, a wall of ice sprang into being and rather neatly sealed Thor, Sif and the Warriors Three on the other side of the archway.

'This way!' The shout was from a broad-shouldered woman scarcely smaller than Rangvald but clad in crude plate armour rather than furs. 'Quickly! We've found the ships!'

Oh, so they _did_ have something vaguely like a plan. Loki wasn't much comforted by that, but if he could at least get airborne and out of the main city…

There was a loud _crunch_ from the far side of the wall of ice and several large chunks fell off it.

'It won't hold for long.' This was from the slimmer, older man standing with the giant woman. 'We need to move quickly. I'll close off behind us as we go, should at least slow them down.'

'I wouldn't bet on it,' Loki said, glancing back. Once Thor got Mjolnir up to speed he'd barrel through anything and everything in his way, _seidr-_ enhanced ice or otherwise. Still, standing around wasn't going to contribute much to the enterprise so he fell easily into step with the rest as they set off, in the approximate direction of the hangars. The older man appeared to be a conjurer adept of some sort; every time they passed through a doorway he summoned another wall of ice with some quick gestures, and as well as carrying a short sword in one hand he flicked what looked suspiciously like bolts of frost in the direction of any einherjar who ventured near him.

They were most of the way to the hangar – the crashing sound of Thor's progress behind them aside – when Loki realised that he hadn't had to dodge any Asgardian weaponry for several minutes because none of it was reaching him. Rangvald was still on point, of course, while the armoured woman had taken rearguard position, but the others were clustered around him with obviously protective intent.

How delightfully odd. He'd never had bodyguards before.

Rangvald chose that moment to pick up an entire marble table and hurl it down the corridor, scattering the bulk of the pursuing einherjar like toys, which gave enough of a reprieve to get them all outside to the airship dock. It was littered with unconscious and very possibly dead guards with obvious marks of frostbite on them. One had what could only be described as an icicle protruding from his chest.

A sudden crackle of lightning surged up from the passageway behind them. Loki whirled on reflex but the armoured woman had lunged in front of him and taken the full force of the blast in the centre of her chest. She staggered back a few steps, nearly bowling him over, and then straightened her shoulders.

' _Coward_! Stop throwing thunderbolts and fight me like a _man_!'

'Oh, I _like_ you,' Loki said to her, grinning, but then he was being hurried towards one of the ships.

' _Stop_!' Thor and the others had arrived and were already storming across the plaza towards them.

'Go!' Halvor skidded to a halt and turned. Herleif immediately followed him and gave a sharp nod with a glance back.

'We'll buy you the time.'

Well, if they wanted to get flattened that was their own business. Loki hopped over the railing and went to the tiller, kicking the power startup control on the way.

'Can you fly it?' Calder was asking the conjurer.

'I think so, but-'

' _I_ can fly it,' Loki snapped, and proved the point by lifting off from the dock. 'You might want to hold on to something,' he added lightly when Rangvald nearly tipped over the side from the speed of the turn.

'Confounded Asgardian machine…'

Halvor and Herleif were engaged with Thor and the others below, standing back to back and barely dodging blows from Mjolnir while fighting Sif and the Warriors Three at the same time. They were, however, rapidly running out of dock to retreat on.

Sighing, but reasoning that two more bodies between himself and harm wasn't a bad idea, Loki turned the ship. The low pass was a tricky manoeuvre, but hopefully the two idiots would see in time and be able to extricate themselves…

It turned out to be less of a chore than he'd anticipated as the conjurer began launching icy _seidr_ missiles at the dock. One of them caught Thor full in the face and knocked him over, which was immensely gratifying, but more importantly the barrage gave enough time for the brothers to be hauled aboard. Pushing the little craft's speed to its limits, Loki arced it away from the palace. In seconds they were out of the city and over open water, where he had to concentrate on weaving the ship back and forth to avoid the retaliatory fire from both the main emplacements and a growing number of pursuing battle barges.

'Head for the mountains,' Calder shouted to him over the accumulated noise. 'We need to get further _inland_ , away from the city!'

Well, divebombing the Bifrost certainly wasn't going to achieve much. Loki looped around a spire and doubled back at top speed. The engines shrieked protest at the abuse and then the whine of power stopped with a small explosion.

Damn. One of the barges had got a lucky shot in during the turn. Smoke was now trailing from the back of the ship. To top it all off, an accelerating streak of scarlet coming towards them confirmed that Thor was also airborne and in pursuit.

When Rangvald swung his hammer around and sent the son of Odin hurtling away like a batted ball before he could actually land on the deck, Loki almost lost control of the ailing craft as he doubled over laughing.

'Nobody said the Asgardian tit could _fly_!' Halvor exclaimed.

'Oh, he'll fly all right,' Rangvald said with a broad grin, and readied his hammer for another swing as Thor righted himself and started back towards them.

'None of it'll mean much once the engine dies and we fall out of the sky,' Calder snapped.

'Then let's not fall.' Loki locked the tiller in position and stepped away from it, indicating the approaching shoreline to the meadows outside the city. 'After all, a big enough explosion will more than likely convince them we all perished in it.'

'The engine giving out won't make a fireball anywhere _near_ large enough,' the older man said with a frown.

'No, but for all they know they hit the reactor.'

'What?'

'Just jump when I do.' Loki didn't bother to explain further – they could get themselves captured if they really felt like it – and glanced back at the smoking engine. If he just timed it right…

The bedamned thing chose exactly that moment to ignite, of course. With reflexes honed by centuries of growing up with a hammer-swing-happy older sibling, he launched himself backwards off the edge of the ship into the air, pushing the _seidr_ into focus as he fell.


	2. A Hidden Way

Twisting into a dive just before he hit the water, Loki filled his lungs and let the chill Asgardian ocean envelop him. Dimly he registered other shapes impacting nearby – all of his erstwhile rescuers who had paid enough attention – but disregarded them for the time being. Norns, it was a pain to swim with boots on, but he'd need them later.

It took several minutes of hard swimming against the ever-present current to reach the shoreline outside of the main city, and then the same amount of time again to claw up sea-slicked rocks back onto dry land. He permitted himself to collapse for a moment on his back, gulping in great heaving breaths of air, and then sat up to glance around.

Remarkable. They were all still alive. Soaked, of course, but alive. In fact Calder was already upright and hastening across, eyes flicking anxiously over and around Loki as if checking for injury.

' _Ta da_.' Loki managed a grin, but it seemed rather lost on the other man.

'Are you hurt, sire?'

'I _can_ swim,' he said, amused at the intimation.

'That glamour-' the older man who'd been throwing _seidr_ asked urgently '-that was _you_?'

'Yes.' There didn't seem to be much else to say. To all outside eyes the explosion had been triple its actual size, as though the main reactor had detonated, producing a fireball of plasma more than capable of utterly obliterating everyone aboard.

'Calder-' this was the armoured woman '-we should get moving. They may realise the ruse and come looking for us.'

'Of course.' Calder offered his arm and helped Loki to his feet. 'We'll find somewhere to hunker down and then proceed to the tarn after dark.'

The lot of them promptly formed a protective escort formation around Loki again without any prompting – he considered commenting on it but then remembered there was such a thing as looking a gift horse in the mouth – and began to head inland. Fortunately the area they'd come ashore at was inhospitably rough terrain which provided plenty of places to hide in, and it didn't take long to find a decent overhang where they could wait out the daylight.

Interestingly, nobody made any moves to light a fire, which Loki found curious because everyone was still sodden, especially Keila and Rangvald in their furs. Most Asgardians would have been complaining of a chill by now.

'Here, sire.' Halvor passed him a flask and a scrap of travel rations. 'Not much, but it should last.'

The flask held some sort of liquor that would have made even Volstagg's eyes water, so Loki contented himself to a brief swig before handing it back and biting off a chunk of the ration; leathery, dried meat of some sort that he couldn't immediately identify. It was poor fare compared to even the diet of a prisoner of Asgard, but he wasn't eating it in a cell and that was definitely a form of progress.

'So,' he said conversationally, shifting slightly to get marginally more comfortable in the nook they were tucked into, 'I take it you aren't of Asgard?'

Halvor stared at him.

'No, sire. Definitely not.'

'So where are you from? And your…enormous companions?' He gestured to indicate Rangvald and the armoured woman.

'We're from the same place,' Keila said. 'Pa and Gyda are just…a bit more _ettin_ than most.'

'Part giant?'

She nodded.

'But you are not,' he added.

'Yup. Ma's not a big'un. Don't always run down the line.'

'I see.'

She regarded him for a moment while chewing industriously.

'So that big blonde bilgesnipe in the red cape…you really thought he were your brother?'

'So I was raised to believe,' Loki said evenly, torn between annoyance at the subject matter and amusement at the casual insult.

'Sharding hell,' was her verdict on that, which he took to be some form of expletive.

'You are…Keila, correct? And Rangvald-' gesturing to the huge man '-is your father?'

'Aye. Other _ettin_ 's Gyda-' indicating the armoured woman '-then that's Calder, he's Halvor and he's Herlief-'

'Other way round.'

'-shut it, Halvor-'

' _He's_ Halvor!'

'-I said _shut it_ – and that's Jerrick.'

The older man glanced up at his name and inclined his head slightly in acknowledgement. Loki returned the gesture and then looked back at Keila.

'Not that I object to making your acquaintances but is there some _reason_ you decided to enact such a hare-brained scheme to break me out of the palace dungeons?'

'The details aren't for us to say, sire,' Calder said before anyone else could. 'When it's dark we'll pass through the tarn and get you to Skadi, and she will make everything clear.'

'And who is Skadi, exactly? And why do you keep calling me _sire_?' Loki injected a little acid into his tone, not delighted with being deliberately kept in the dark.

'Because-' Keila began, but again Calder overrode her.

'Because it is appropriate. Please, sire, if you will be patient then Skadi will explain everything. Just know that we came here to find you and bring you to her, and any of us would gladly lay down our lives to see it done.'

'Well, this just gets better and better,' Loki said with false cheerfulness. 'Am I now _your_ prisoner, then?'

'Not our _prisoner_!' Halvor exclaimed, scandalised. 'Our _king_!'

'What?' Loki looked from him to Calder and back. 'Your…king?'

'That is for Skadi to explain,' Calder said firmly, shooting Halvor a glare. 'Try and rest, sire. At nightfall we must move quickly to reach the tarn.'

Far from content, but realising he was unlikely to get anything further for now, Loki gave a small nod of acknowledgement and settled back against the cavern wall. _King_? Who _were_ these people? He risked one more quick glance around the room but as he'd suspected would be the case nobody was forthcoming. Except for Jerrik, who actually caught his eye and gave a very small smile as if they were sharing some private joke. He returned it in kind and then let his head fall back against the rock face. It would not be too difficult to cloak himself with _seidr_ and depart into the wilds of Asgard…but then what? He was hardly inclined to hurl himself off the Bifrost and return to the doubtful hospitality of the dark realm beneath – he quickly banished that thought as unpleasant memories threatened to resurface – and while there were plenty of passages into the other realms, potentially even Midgard, which he could reach, what good would it do him?

Better perhaps to wait, and see what was behind these strange people who had rescued him from the Allfather and called him _king_ …

A watchful quiet fell as the hours passed and darkness settled over Asgard. Only when the countryside was cloaked in night did Calder rise and motion to the others, setting a swift but steady pace towards the distant mountains. They walked in silence, keeping to single file, and although Loki made one or two token efforts to fall to the rear of the pack the others simply moved around him so he was always in the defensible centre of the line.

At daybreak they concealed themselves in a small huddle of trees, distributed another meagre ration and then waited again for nightfall. Loki didn't even realise that he'd dozed off until a light shake of his shoulder brought him to.

'Come, sire, we should reach the tarn in a few hours.'

Calder marched off to the front without further comment so Loki took a moment to try and stretch the crick out of his neck and then got to his feet. At least they'd all walked themselves dry the previous night; it was a lot easier going, especially uphill, when one did not squelch with every step.

The moon was high and full by the time they were among the first foothills, and then descending into a darker crevasse worn over ages by the trickle of a mountain stream down it. Calder abruptly called a halt and the air of the entire party seemed to lighten somewhat.

'Finally,' Halvor muttered. 'Away from this sharding _heat_.'

As the mountains of Asgard were generally considered chilly at best by most, Loki glanced at him curiously but then was being ushered towards a narrow fissure in the wall. He had to turn sideways to slither through it, and the narrow passage beyond was little better. Progress was slow as Rangvald and Gyda manoeuvred and squeezed their broader forms through the darkness, but finally the channel opened into a larger chamber with fresher air. A single torch burned, throwing dancing shadows onto the jagged walls and ceiling, and the figure holding it turned to see them with a wickedly serrated sword of black metal in his other hand.

'It's us, Bjarke,' Calder said.

'Thank the ice. You were making enough noise.' The man was tall and broad, though nowhere near the build of Rangvald, with his head shorn clean but for a single braid. 'Did you find him?'

'Yes,' Calder indicated Loki. 'We did. And I doubt we'd have made it back here without him.'

'I see.' Bjarke flashed a rather wolfish grin and then bowed low in Loki's direction. 'I hope you can swim, sire.'

' _Swim_?' Loki echoed, but the man merely motioned with the torch to the low pool towards the back of the cavern.

'Shall we away then, to more hospitable climes?'

'See you back on the ice, brothers.' Rangvald swung his hammer into the straps on his back and stepped into the mere without further comment. It bubbled for a moment and then went as still as glass again.

'Just so I'm clear,' Loki said evenly as Keila dove in after her father without preamble, 'You want me to jump into an icy underground lake and swim through it to…where, exactly?'

'It's a hidden way, sire,' Calder said to him as Halvor and Herleif went in, one after the other. 'Between the realms.'

'And a long way down, so take a deep breath,' Jerrik added, flashing a small smile and then inhaling before stepping into the pool.

'You'll feel the shift when it happens.' Calder motioned with one hand. 'Let yourself sink until the water changes, cools. Then swim up, as fast as you can. I'll be right behind you.'

'Is that supposed to be reassuring?' Loki stepped up to the pool and regarded the inky depths without much enthusiasm. The damned thing looked as bottomless as the void beneath the Bifrost, but the others seemed confident enough, even if this wasn't a hidden way he was familiar with from his own judicious expeditions.

'Would it help if we pushed you?' Bjarke asked with a grin.

'No, thank you.' Taking a deep breath, he braced himself and jumped in. It was cold and dark and vaguely _pulling_ , more like being sucked into something than simply sinking downwards, the speed of descent more than a trifle alarming. He forced himself to slowly exhale, releasing a little of the pressure on his chest, and risked opening his eyes to look around. Everything was pitch black, suffocatingly so, with not even a glimmer of light from the surface, however far above it was now, as though he could keep on sinking forever into the chill, watery void.


	3. Your Kingdom

Loki's vision abruptly blurred and he flailed, startled, exhaling far more than he meant to as the temperature suddenly plummeted. It was _freezing_ – surely water couldn't be this cold without turning to ice – but now there was a dim light somewhere above him. He kicked frantically, lifting his arms in desperate strokes, lungs burning, and just as it seemed the distance was insurmountable his head broke the surface. Coughing, wheezing, gasping for air, he groped out blindly and felt hands closing around his arms, pulling him up and out of the water. The ground was scarcely any warmer than the pool had been, but it was blessedly solid, and he doubled over on hands and knees to ease the ache of his chest as his breathing steadied.

'Easy, sire, you're all right.' Rangvald's jovial tone was oddly reassuring in its blitheness, and the hearty slap between his shoulderblades certainly helped him cough up the last of the water he'd unwittingly inhaled. 'Not bad, for your first deep dunking!'

'Oh, good,' Loki managed on a wheeze. 'How comforting.'

'That's the spirit!' _Whack_. Another clout on the shoulder brought up another torrent of icy water and sent him into a spluttering wreck again.

'Stop hitting him and help him up, you dimglow.' That was Halvor, moving in on one side while his brother took Loki's other arm to get him to his feet. 'Sorry sire, it can take you that way the first time. You'll be fine in a moment…here, sit.'

Loki permitted himself to be helped to a low boulder and concentrated on getting his breath back as various splashing and crunching noises heralded the arrival of the others. Flexing his hand to ease the ache from where he'd clenched it, nauseatingly raw horror surfaced at the sight of his own skin tinted a vivid and sickeningly familiar blue. Panicking, he reached up and felt the thin, scar-like ridges that covered his face.

'The tarn's chill enough to bring it out. It'll fade in a bit.' When another slender hand, the same vivid colour, covered one of his own, he looked up to its owner and blinked in astonishment. It was Keila – the same flame-coloured hair and strong-boned features – but her eyes were the same blood crimson he knew his own would be at that moment, and her skin the same cerulean shade covered with intricate, raised patterns.

'Not seen another of the _Jotsir_ before, eh?' she asked, and motioned back over her shoulder. Loki adjusted his gaze over her shoulder and felt his jaw drop. From enormous Rangvald wringing out his beard while stomping to the mouth of the cave, to Halvor and Herleif emptying water out of their boots… _all_ of them showed the same colouring and facial patterns. No – not quite the same – he could see now that the skin ridges were in fact quite different between individuals, although Keila and Rangvald's showed more similarity in the broad whorls on their cheeks.

'I'm sorry, sire,' Calder said, his own skin and eyes already fading back to Aesir colouring as he approached. 'I should have thought to warn you.'

Loki stared down at his hands – one of Keila's still rested lightly on his left wrist – disgust slowly giving way to fascination as the usual hue crept back.

' _Jotsir_ ,' he repeated, frowning and looked up at Keila as she stood.

'Jotun and Aesir,' she confirmed.

He looked at Calder.

'Where _are_ we?'

'Home, sire.' Calder stood aside to permit him to walk past to the mouth of the cave. Loki took in the windswept, icy plains, snow-topped mountains and distant glaciers for a moment.

'Jotunheim,' he said, battling to keep the revulsion out of his voice.

'Yes sire.' Calder stepped up beside him. 'Your kingdom.'

'What?'

'You are the only get of Laufey Ymirson, King of Jotunheim,' Bjarke said from behind them. 'That makes you his heir, and our king. This realm is yours.'

Loki stared at them for a moment and glanced back at the bleak vista. _My birthright –_ his own words seemed to mock him. Then the absurdity – the lunatic, insane _farce_ of the entire situation – struck him, and he had to brace one hand on the side of the cavern mouth as he burst out laughing.

'This _realm_?' he echoed when they all stared at him. 'This collapsing, frozen-over _wreck_? This world isn't a realm…it's a _ruin_!'

'This is our _home_ ,' Gyda said stiffly, with obvious resentment.

'Oh, forgive me-' Loki managed to straighten his stance, if not his face '-I'm sure you're all very attached to this frost-riddled rock, _abundant_ as its charms clearly are-'

' _Frost riddled rock_?' Rangvald echoed, and then to Loki's surprise sounded a booming laugh of his own. 'Aye, it is that. A sad old hulk of ice, and its inhabitants little better.'

'You would speak with such disrespect-' Gyda began angrily, but stopped when Keila slapped her on the shoulder.

'Oh he's right and we all know it. The world's been dying ever since Borrson brought Laufey to his knees and took the Casket – but that's going to _change_ , right?' Grinning broadly, she thumped her father on the arm. 'Why else would us halfwits do something mad like sneak into the halls of the Allfather to break someone out of his dungeon? That were the whole _point_ , weren't it?'

This produced more laughter from the others, and even Gyda gave a rueful half smile.

'I suppose that is true enough. But it _will_ change. That is why we need our king.' She inclined her head deeply to Loki.

'Well, it isn't _quite_ as simple as that,' Jerrik said dryly. 'But why don't we get _our king_ to Skadi so that she can enlighten him properly?'

This seemed to meet with agreement, although it was all Loki could do to school his face into something approximating solemnity for the trek down the mountainside. Huddled into a tiny camp at the base was a blonde woman who introduced herself as Agnetta Skadisdottir and wife of Bjarke, and a young man barely into his hundredth summer who very excitedly named himself as Sten, their son. They had apparently been left in charge of a slew of enormous and hardy horses, far bulkier and thicker-coated than their Asgardian equivalents, with broad flat hooves the size of table platters that were ideal for traversing the icy ground. The smallest, which Keila did not mount so much as scale, was easily twenty hands high, while the enormous beasts that Gyda and Rangvald hefted themselves onto would have made even Odin's mighty Sleipnir look like a week-old foal.

Halvor showed Loki how to brace one foot on the lower stirrup and get into the saddle of the huge creatures by using the extended billet straps as something of a climbing rope to swing up into the broad seat. The leather was well worn to suppleness but seemed to be made of a strangely scaled, almost reptilian, variety of hide. At least the creature was amiable enough to being ridden, falling into step behind Calder and Jerrik's steeds with only the barest nudge of the reins.

They made impressive speed – not that it was surprising, from the scale of their mounts – but kept to a route that skirted around the base of the mountains rather than striking out over the plains between peaks. Given the clearly horrendous winds and twisting flurries of snow as high as the spire of Asgard's palace, Loki suspected that their course was as much need as it was discretion.

When the sunlight, such as it was, began to dim, they made a camp that used the horses as a ringed bulwark against the wind but did not light a fire despite the bitter cold.

'Here, sire.' Calder pulled a thick fur from one of the numerous saddlebags and passed it across to Loki, who had to admit being rather grateful for the consideration. He didn't usually feel the cold – not compared to an Asgardian, anyway – but Jotunheim after nightfall was bone chilling. The others were covering themselves similarly, even Rangvald and Gyda, and the wind was rising to whip the snow covering the ground into a frenzied torrent around them.

'Storm coming!' Bjarke called over the rising squall. 'Bunker up and hold on, sire!'

 _To what_? Loki wondered, but there seemed little point in further shouting so he turned slightly onto his side and huddled against the flank of the horse. The shaggy coat and mane provided at least some insulation, and he felt rather than heard the beast's snort as if it was commenting on his efforts not to freeze solid. At least it was disinclined to move, although freezing to death in the wastes of Jotunheim had not really been what he expected upon being broken out of the dungeons.

He didn't recall going to sleep but woke to comparative quiet and an oddly smothering sort of warmth. For some reason as he opened his eyes the entire world seemed to have turned white, and he abruptly realised he was buried. _Oh, good_. This just got better and better.

Unfolding from his hunched position – the horse, at least, still seemed to be there – he managed to move his arms sufficiently to free them and started digging his way out. After a few moments he broke into cool and mercifully fresh air, shaking his hair clear of powdery crystals in time to see Rangvald grinning down at him.

'Snow blanket! Nothing better for a comfortable night on the plains! Welcome to Jotunheim, sire.'

'How delightful,' Loki muttered, leaning on his mount in order to get to his feet. The animal was covered in snow as well but seemed oddly cheerful, tossing its head and making small whinnying noises. Then it got up, causing a minor localised avalanche, so once he got to his feet again and tried to assemble the increasingly tattered remains of his dignity it seemed high past time to get moving to wherever this infamous Skadi woman was hiding.

Unfortunately any hopes he might have had for some rapid answers were soon quelled when Calder pointed out that they had many days of hard travelling ahead of them before they could cross the perpetually frozen Vimur River to reach an area called Laegskulda, the lowlands of Jotunheim's single gigantic, glacier-ridden continent.

Not, Loki reflected privately, that the names of all these apparently-notable landmarks meant a great deal when the entire planet could as always be summed up quite succinctly with a single pithy phrase. _Iced-over ruin_ , for one example. _Snowed-in dead rock_ , for another.

In any event he had all the time he could have wished for, and then some, to contemplate alternative names for Jotunheim's uninteresting geography. The howling winds more often than not made any attempts at conversation with his travelling companions impossible anyway. After six days of perpetual boredom with nothing much to see apart from the rear end of Calder's horse in front, Loki found himself genuinely wondering if rotting in the cells of Asgard might not have been preferable after all. It would at least have been warmer.

On the eighth day – he was almost becoming used to waking up under a drift of snow – they were making somewhat slower progress than usual through a mazelike field of jagged rocks when a deep rumbling from nearby sent sheets of frost cascading from the spires onto the ground. The ice shattered like glass and sent razor-sharp splinters flying in all directions, making the horses shy and pace in alarm.

'Which way?' Calder hissed. Gyda made a sharp gesture to the left and without further comment the entire party began hurrying in that direction. Loki found himself huddled into the centre again – although with the apparently imminent danger he wasn't going to complain – and then being urged down from the back of the horse, pushed and pulled until he was stuck under a narrow outcropping. When Halvor started to pile snow on him he began to splutter a protest but was silenced by Keila's hand covering his mouth.

'Jotun coming, sire. Best stay hidden.' Then she pushed him further beneath the ledge and scuttled off, presumably to conceal herself as well.

Ah. Well, that put a different colour on it. Loki glanced about, squinting, but between the general whiteout, the hurriedly-piled snow and whatever else constituted hasty camouflage he couldn't make out any of the others. Then movement caught his eye and with a frown he realised it was one of the horses tossing its head. The wretched beast would give them all away!

Closing his eyes, he reached for a tendril of _seidr_ and concentrated. It would only take a simple glamour, but cloaking so many wasn't the kind of challenge he was accustomed to… _there_. If he could just hold the illusion long enough…

His eyes flew open at the sound of heavy footsteps as a half dozen azure-skinned Jotun trailed past less than ten strides away. In full daylight, or at least what passed for it on this wreck of a world, they were every inch the walking nightmares used to frighten the children of Asgard.

Why wouldn't the accursed creatures move on? He was struggling to hold the spell active over such a wide area for so long. His vision was starting to blur. Perhaps he could reveal some of them…the boy Sten, perhaps, and Agnetta, were unlikely to be of much practical use if it came to blows…

'They're gone,' someone muttered. With a huff of relief Loki dropped the veil and rubbed at the bridge of his nose as the others began extricating themselves, digging the horses out and generally making plans to move on.

'Here, sire.' Jerrik was pushing something into his hand. ' _Vidir_ bark. Stop the pain before it fully starts. Bitter raw, but we daren't risk fire for a brew.'

'Thank you,' Loki said, and meant it. He hadn't given himself a magically-induced headache in years, but childhood memories of migraines brought on by an overstretch of _seidr_ were still vivid.

'That's a second mask we owe to you,' Jerrik added. 'Where did you learn to cast such a glamour?'

'My moth-' Loki cut himself off sharply and masked it by accepting the hand she offered to help him to his feet '-Frigga. The queen of Asgard. She taught me.'

 _You'll never have you brother's arm, little raven, but that does not mean you cannot be a warrior_.

He shook his head to dispel the phantom memory and popped the knot of bark into his mouth, grimacing at the bitterness as he chewed. It helped clear his head, though, and not just of the lingering ache of overstretched _seidr_.

'She was clearly a woman of talent, then,' Jerrik said mildly. 'For an Aesir.'

Loki frowned at her. Aesir or not, Frigga was one of his few largely untainted memories of Asgard and he wasn't pleased to hear her spoken of in such a manner.

'She is,' he said pointedly, and left it at that.

Perversely, after the encounter with the Jotun the journey became somewhat easier as they descended into the lowlands. Although it was no less frigid, the winds eased up, on several mornings they actually woke up _not_ buried in drifts of snow, and it was even possible to pass words back and forth. Not that his new associates seemed much for small talk, he soon discovered, when even his most inviting and charm-laden attempts to initiate conversation met only with polite nods of acknowledgement and the occasional murmur of _yes, sire_ or something similar.

No wonder Odin was such a curmudgeonly old fool, if being a king meant never being able to have meaningful dialogue with anyone ever again.

Finally, on the twelfth day, they passed through yet another maze of ice and rock spires into a complex, winding cave system. It was positively stifling after so long in the open air, and the ground so uneven that they ended up having to dismount; the Jotunheim horses were surprisingly nimble-footed for such huge beasts, but the ground there was better suited to a mountain goat than a ridden steed.

When the dim noise of voices and domestic activity became audible – everything from the clatter of pans to the crying of babies – Calder called a halt.

'We're here,' Jerrik said for Loki's benefit.

 _Here_ , as they rounded a corner, turned out to be an enormous low-ceilinged cavern crowded with what could only be described as refugees. Men, women, children and infants of all ages were packed into the space, clad in varying qualities of furs and leathers, and the low stink of too many bodies in close and prolonged proximity was enough to make Loki's nose wrinkle after so long in the clean, cold air of the lowland plains.

'This way, sire,' Calder motioned. 'Skadi is waiting.'


	4. Not Born To Die

Loki followed Calder into the mass of people but found his misgivings only growing as they went on. An odd quiet had fallen over the previously bustling cave, but a buzz of whispers and muttering followed their wake as surely as the many eyes and faces that seemed to be far too eager to lay eyes on the newcomers.

' _That's him_ ,' he heard quite distinctly, off to his left, and looked sharply in that direction. He was hardly unaccustomed to such pointless observations…but that tone had been entirely devoid of disgust or distaste. It mirrored the expressions on those he passed, the upturned gazes and beginnings of smiles on faces that seemed to have been sorrow-worn for far too long.

'Try not to mind them, sire,' Calder said to him quietly. 'It's been…rather a while since any of us had any real reason to hope.'

 _Hope_? Loki glanced back with a small frown. He'd been a herald of many things in his time, but never of _hope_. What fresh madness was this?

'Here.' As they reached a barrier of hanging hides strung up between several large stalagmites, Calder held a sheet aside to permit Loki to pass in ahead of him, and actually flashed a brief smile of his own. 'Good luck.'

'What?'

But then the sheet fell back, separating them, and Loki turned to take in the rest of the makeshift room in puzzlement. It was hardly better arrayed than the rest of the cave, but had its own fire and furs thrown over several small boulders which were being used as either seats or tables or perhaps both as need demanded.

He narrowed his eyes and looked hard at one of the heaps of furs for a moment before it confirmed his suspicions by emitting a cackle of laughter and unfolding to reveal a wizened old woman with a short-shorn cap of silver hair and surprisingly vibrant blue eyes.

'You're a sharp one, I see.'

'I've reason to be.' Loki glanced around again to confirm they were alone. 'I take it you are the famous Skadi?'

'And you are the much-vaunted Loki. Don't look askance at me, boy, my bones may be old but you'd still feel the back of my hand if I took it to that pretty face of yours. _Sit_ ,' she added, indicating one near her. 'I want a better look at you.'

' _Boy_?' Loki echoed, incensed at the implication. 'I am a-'

'You're a prince in exile at best, and that only by my leave. Shut up and _sit_.'

Something in her voice seemed to reach past indignation to some hidden core of him, and Loki found himself obeying without conscious decision although he was aware that he was now all but gaping openly at her.

'There now.' She leaned towards him a little and her expression softened. 'Oh, you _are_ the one. I knew they'd find you. Thank the ice they did. The string of hope and prayer holding this place together is worn thin to its last thread.'

'I was told,' Loki said carefully, 'That you could explain what was going on.'

'You know _what's going on,'_ she shot back, mocking his seriousness. 'Jotunheim is without its rightful lord. The land is falling to bits – quite literally, in some places – as the ice refuses the would-be King Thyrm, who has no more right to rule here than he does in any other realm.'

'Wait – who?'

'One of your unlamented sire's old war chiefs. A _true Jotun_ , as he would style it, proving himself as ignorant as he is brutish. When Laufey perished in Asgard and Utgard was devastated by the Bifrost, Thyrm seized power and appointed himself ruler of Jotunheim. But with Laufey's son still living, he has no right to it. The land knows it. The _ice_ knows it.' She sighed. 'And so the realm continues to decay, and Thyrm continues to rage at it, and the mighty Realm Eternal leaves us all to rot.'

'Really.' Loki folded his arms. 'And what would you have _me_ do about it? Announce my parentage and seize the throne, or what's left of it? Laufey died by _my hand_!'

She laughed at him.

'You think I don't know that, boy? Jotunheim has a long and rich tradition of its ascendant kings taking the throne with death on their hands. Yours are no bloodier than most, and they're cleaner than many.'

'Stop calling me _boy_ ,' Loki ground out.

'I'll call you whatever I please! I helped bring you into this world, and keep you in it, and that gives me more than the right of it.'

'What?' All other considerations fled from his mind as she cackled.

'All this time cursing your father's name and it never occurred to you to wonder after your mother?'

For a moment he was sure that his heart actually stopped.

'I knew her,' Skadi said, her voice softening. 'I was there when you were born, Loki Laufeyson, and I held you in my arms as you squalled.' She shook her head and chuckled, half to herself. 'Oh, the _noise_ you made.'

Loki set his jaw, bitterness surging in his chest.

'Then you know the mother who _abandoned_ me to die!'

' _What_?' Skadi actually stood up, leaning heavily on the worn wooden staff at her side. 'Is that what they told you? That you were _abandoned_ in the temple of Utgard?' One gnarled hand went to the furs at her collar, yanking them down to expose a wicked scar that twisted down her throat towards her breast. 'Is _this_ the mark of someone who would _abandon_ their charge? I took this from Gungnir for my pains, and they told you that you were _abandoned_?'

Shocked, Loki actually took a step back and flinched from her. _Is there no end to Odin's lies_?

'Who – who are you?' he asked, brokenly.

Skadi sank slowly back onto her seat and pulled her furs back up.

'I was your wetnurse, Loki. Your mother died birthing you and I swore to her on her last breath that I would see you safe to manhood. When Odin struck me down and took you from my arms in Utgard I thought I'd failed, but then Laufey died and the Bifrost shattered and I knew…I _knew_ you yet lived.' She reached out and laid a withered palm over his cheek with such tenderness that he could only stare at her in astonishment. 'That's what started this, child. I know when you unleashed the full power of the Bifrost you meant to destroy this world utterly, to prove yourself to that arrogant cur who dares call himself Allfather… in the chaos enough of us broke away from the Jotun to become _free_ , to hide ourselves away and to seek out our _true_ king, but you were shrouded in darkness for so long, concealed even from the ice that bore you…'

Loki had to look away from her. Odin had… _stolen_ him? And not as one steals a relic left by the roadside, but with violence, from the arms of a caretaker? A by-now familiar hatred and raw, seething rage twisted a knot in his chest.

'I'll _kill_ him. I swear I will _kill_ Odin for what he has done-'

'That won't change anything,' Skadi snapped, warmth gone in an instant. 'Hate him by all means – the ice knows I do – but vengeance at such a late hour will serve no purpose. Not when there's so much to be done. To give you back your birthright. To _save_ Jotunheim.'

' _Save_?' he exclaimed mockingly. 'Save what? This barren lump of rock?'

'This rock wasn't always so barren,' she said quietly. 'The oldest of us used to tell tales of dancing ice devils on the Glittering Plains, of deer and birds in the snowy forests of Nallinfallur, foxes scuttling over the green tundra of Mímir's Well…all dead or dying now, thanks to Laufey's coveting of the world of Midgard, and Odin's retribution exacted in blood with nary a care for those of his own left behind.'

'Those…of his own?' Loki battled to keep his voice level. Skadi snorted at him, turned just as quickly back to acerbity.

'For one supposedly so perceptive you're remarkably dense, boy. The Jotun have been a dying race for millennia – fewer and fewer of them born each century. Most of the children born to this realm now are hybrids, Aesir and Jotun both, usually of womenfolk captured by Laufey's warriors and brought back here as slaves or trophies.' A snort. 'You're second generation Jotsir yourself. Most of us are. Oh, occasionally you get throwbacks – big hulks like Rangvald or Gyda – but the _ettins_ rarely breed true. Of course you know that anyway, since you've met Rangvald's girl Keila.'

'Then my mother-'

'Your mother was Jotsir, sired by a Jotun on some stolen Asgardian woman.' Skadi constructed a shrug. 'Like so many of us. None of the original Aesir still live. Birthing half-giants and living on Jotunheim is generally poor for their health, I'm told.'

'Then I am…at least _partly_ of Asgard?' he pressed.

'By blood, yes, as much as any Jotsir.' She smirked. 'As to the rest…that remains to be seen.'

Loki sat down again, only then realising that he'd been pacing, and laced his fingers together under his chin. His mind was whirling. _A throne._ A throne truly _his_ , and not to be gainsaid by Odin or Thor or anyone else who dared. A race, _his_ race, the bastard hybrids of captured Aesir and brutal Jotun, enslaved and brutalised but ready to rise up for _their king_ …

'Personally I think _liberator_ has a nicer ring to it than mere _conquerer_ ,' Skadi added, apparently seeing through his ruminations with ease. 'Although I feel like I must contrive to visit Midgard one day, to see what in the universe is so damned _special_ about it.'

Despite himself, Loki grinned at that.

'It isn't so remarkable. The humans don't take very good care of it.'

She snorted again, sounding uncannily like the horse he'd been riding for the last fortnight.

'Well then, will you do any better with _your_ birthplace?'

He frowned, considering. His own throne – his own _realm_ , and by both birth and blood at that – was tempting. More than tempting. It was everything he'd wanted, ever since he'd learned the real reason why Odin had snubbed him in favour of Thor.

 _Your birthright was to die!_ The Allfather's roar echoed in his head.

'Who was my mother?' he asked Skadi. 'Laufey chose her to sire a child. Surely she was more than just another prisoner?'

'She was exactly that.' Skadi cocked her head and a small smile flitted over her face. 'Don't be foolish, boy! You think Laufey _meant_ to sire a halfbreed on her when he dragged her to his bed?'

Loki swallowed hard. So Odin had been right. His birthright _had_ been to die, unremarked and unwanted. An accident of a Jotun's alien lust.

'Your _birthright_ was the same as that of any other Jotsir,' Skadi said, making him blink when he realised he'd given muttered voice to his thoughts. 'Just as your mother was the same as any other prisoner, save in how her beauty caught Laufey's interest.' Her face suddenly softened. 'You have her eyes. Like light on the ice, or the aurora's dance on a moonless night.'

Loki gaped openly at her. All his life he'd wondered at his eyes, which never quite matched the steel blue of Odin and Thor or the softer indigo of Frigga. Now he knew, and it was like a dagger to the heart exquisite with bittersweet pain.

'Tell me of her,' he begged, dropping to his knees in front of Skadi. 'Please.'

She smiled, and now it was kind.

'The _ettins_ call it skyfire, you know. Blue-grey-green as the light changes. They think it lucky.'

He dropped his gaze.

'I'm not lucky. I'm cursed.'

' _Pah_.' One finger came to his chin and forced him to look up at her. 'When your mother realised she was with child from Laufey, she came to me. There are…ways, you see, to lose a child before the belly swells. So many Jotsir, even the _ettins_ , lose their lives birthing the get of giants, the danger for many is too great.'

'So I cursed even her with my very existence,' Loki spat.

' _She_ didn't see you as a curse. I mixed a draught for her but she wouldn't take a drop of it. She was adamant that her child would live, though she knew it would kill her to see it done. Her last words to me the day you were born were the same. _My son must live._ '

Loki felt tears well up and found he could make no effort to stop them. Skadi laid her palm gently on his cheek and stroked the skin beside his eye until he looked at her again.

'You were not born to die, Loki. You were born as all things are born, to _live_.' Another little snort, this one more rueful. 'So _intent_ , always watching. So like her. Yes, definitely her eyes. Skyfire eyes. And her hair!' She actually reached back and ran her fingers through it. 'Like the wing of a raven in silk and satin. She was very vain of her hair, you know. I think she'd be glad to see you have it. _Ugh_ , but your nose is your sire's! Although-' turning his head slightly to one side with a look of exaggerated evaluation '-you wear it well enough, I suppose. You're a handsome lad, by all accounts, although I daresay those empty-headed Aesir doxies in Asgard failed to notice it.'

That made him grin, although his eyes were still damp, and she chortled.

'There, and a smile that could make a bilgesnipe blush. You get that from her too, lucky boy.' Then she actually dabbed at his cheeks with a corner of her cloak. 'Don't weep for her death, Loki. She gave all of herself to see you live. It would gladden her memory to see it is still so. Even if you are an ignorant and insolent whelp.'

That made him laugh, the freest one he could remember in a long time, and he shifted back onto one of the fur-covered seats.

'What was her name?'

'Farbauti. Farbauti Aegirsdottir. Someone will probably know the rest of the line if you care for it. I dare say the Asgardians filled your head with all manner of nonsense about that sort of thing.'

'Farbauti,' Loki echoed, barely hearing the rest of her words. Skadi chortled at him.

'Well now, Loki Farbautisson, it's past sunset for these old bones and no doubt you've had your fill of sleeping in snowdrifts for the time being. Agnetta!'

'Yes, Mother?'

Hurriedly composing himself, Loki rose as the tall, blonde woman peered past one of the dividing hide walls.

'Kindly get this lad out of my sight for a while,' Skadi said to her. 'He's unaccountably wearying and does nothing but ask questions.'

'Yes, Mother.' Agnetta caught Loki's eye with an amused wink. 'Come with me.'

'Loki.' Skadi's voice checked him at the partition and he glanced back in time to see her smile. 'We'll speak again…later.'

He nodded.

'Thank you.'

'Hmph. Away with you now. Troublesome boy,' she added under her breath, laboriously getting to her feet and moving to a heap of furs nearby which presumably served as her bed.

'You mustn't mind my mother,' Agnetta said as they moved away. 'She likes to play the grouch to keep up her mystique. Mostly she doesn't mean it. _Mostly_.'


	5. How We Begin

Nascent rank apparently had its privileges even in Jotunheim, as rather than rejoining the main cavern Loki found himself installed on a spacious ledge far enough above the rest of the space to constitute more or less its own chamber behind the hide partitions. The room had its own small hearth, a scattering of fur-covered stone seats around a large slab presumably meant to serve as some kind of table, and even something approximating a bed. Well, if by _bed_ one could broaden the definition generously to "cubby chipped out of the stone wall with a bedroll in it." It was still an improvement over the snow drift, at any rate.

In the morning – or what he assumed was morning, since the cavern was illuminated only by the perpetual twilight of fires and torches reflecting off the icy ceiling – someone had left him a bowl of water and what probably constituted breakfast. It bore a remarkable resemblance to what he'd been eating during the journey of the last fortnight, but then food on Jotunheim was unlikely to offer much in the way of variety.

He broke the ice on the water and splashed some onto his face just as Calder came in.

'Sleep well, sire?'

'Better than of late.' Loki dried his hands on his outer tunic and then shrugged it back on. 'Not waking up in a snowdrift does wonders for one's temper in the morning, I find.'

'That's very true.' Calder offered a polite smile and then, clearly a little impatient to get to the matter at hand, laced his hands behind his back. 'You…spoke with Skadi yesterday?'

'Yes.' Loki walked across to one of the stools by the makeshift table and sat down on it, making a small show of getting comfortable. 'It was very…enlightening.'

'Good. That's…good.'

After a moment of silence he took pity on the man and indicated one of the other seats.

'You seem to be waiting on something?'

'Well I-' Calder seemed to give up, sat down and laced his fingers together on the surface '-to be honest, I was rather hoping you'd know what to do next. We've all been sort of making it up as we go along, really.'

'What to do next.' Loki was struggling not to laugh again. 'As in, how to reclaim the bleak and very _cold_ throne of Jotunheim?'

'Yes, that.'

'The last time I tried to seize a kingdom, I had more in the way of an army to back it up.'

'We've an army. Or at least the beginnings of one.'

'Really.' Getting up, Loki pulled one of the draped hides over to reveal the camp beyond. 'Mothers, children, infants, elders who can barely walk? A mighty force indeed.'

'More will come.'

'From where?'

'From everywhere. When the Bifrost shattered it destroyed most of Utgard and the first of us fled from there with a new taste of freedom. But there are other places that still hold Jotsir in thrall beneath the heels of the Jotun. The villages of Thrymheim, the approaches to Gastropnir, the fortress-town of Narvesthal-'

'How many?'

'Places?'

'Jotsir.' Loki cocked his head. 'How _big_ will this army be?'

'Thousands. More.' Calder shrugged. 'We've no way of counting them all. In some places there are only a handful of our people hidden in the dregs of the Jotun towns. In others there are hundreds upon hundreds toiling at their feet.'

'Thousands,' Loki echoed, regarding the less-than-impressive camp in front of him for a moment longer before turning back. 'And they'll fight?'

'They'll _all_ fight,' Calder said firmly. 'Men, women, children. The Jotun torment us all, and if we have the misfortune to get underfoot they care little for what they step on.'

'Good.' A slow smile spread over Loki's face. He let the drape fall. 'Have we a map?'

'If you wish it.'

'I do. That's how we begin.'

Once Calder had left to procure what was needed, Loki tweaked the partition aside again to review his fledgling force. A child tripped, wailed and was picked up to be comforted. An old man bent nearly double with age tottered from one fire to the next. A handful of boys little older than Agnetta and Bjarke's Sten sparred childishly with makeshift stone daggers.

He'd done more with a lot less. And this time he would not fail.

_I am Loki, son of Farbauti, and I will have my throne._

*

The days in Laegskulda – the _lowest cold_ , as the valley lands housing the refugee caverns were called – quickly assumed something remarkably like a routine. Loki spent most of the time in his chamber with Calder, Rangvald and Jerrik, putting together as close to a comprehensive map of Jotunheim and its principle settlements as they could summon between them. This ended up being largely hand drawn in charcoal on the raw stone of the makeshift table, for lack of anything better to use, but that at least made it easy to adjust and correct as time went on. Loki spent long hours by himself staring at it, memorising every feature, trying to see the best way to move a cumbersome force towards the city of Utgard. Even now, the would-be-king Thyrm and his Jotun allies camped out in the ruins of the old fortress capital. Razing it to the ground and slaying Thyrm upon its rubble would be the final, glorious battle that would seize Jotunheim for Loki…but there was a long way to go before that day.

He went to see Skadi almost every evening, ostensibly to learn more of Jotunheim's past and the Jotsir in particular, but more often than not wound up simply peppering her with questions about his mother. Although he knew that this pointless and insatiable curiosity was a potentially lethal weakness, he couldn't bring himself to ignore the opportunity. Skadi had been close friends with Farbauti; _valaettkvísl_ or _choice-kin,_ a term which she said was used to indicate someone considered family by choice of association. First generation Jotsir, he was told, did not have natural siblings – with the rare exceptions of twins like Halvor and Herleif – as the Aesir women who had birthed them invariably died doing so.

The rest of the time Loki spent walking amongst the camp and talking to people. Cowing the common humans on Midgard with raw power and force was one thing, but without an army like the Chitauri to draw on he needed to instil loyalty in other ways. Besides, a king ought to know as much as possible about his subjects.

So he went amongst them, complimented their children, laughed at their strange attempts at humour, asked their opinions on small and inconsequential things. Let them think he was their _friend_. Combine that with the almost messianic manner in which most of the poor wretches seemed to already think of him and they would gladly die by the droves while he climbed their ladder of corpses to his rightful throne.

How sweet that day would be.

'Tharveld is closer.'

'Yes, but Wrensdrotten is larger – there must be at least a hundred Jotsir families there, compared with less than a score at Tharveld.'

'Wrensdrotten is a _castle_! How in the sharding hell are we supposed to assault it with barely fifty bodies fit for combat?'

'How much longer are you two dimglows going to go in circles about this?'

Loki grinned at Jerrik's exasperated remark. Calder and Rangvald had both been trying to make the case for their respective targets as a first foray into forced liberation for the last three days, without much in the way of resolution.

Calder maintained, that the tiny camp-town of Tharveld, only a few days of hard riding away, would make for an easy and unsuspecting target for them – ride in, slaughter the Jotun, recruit the liberated Jotsir and flee back into Laegskulda with minimal risk. An easy victory.

Rangvald, on the other hand, insisted that it would be far more worthwhile to take on the more ample Jotun forces in the castle of Wrensdrotten in order to free far more Jotsir from their oppressors. Either way, Wrensdotten was the most obvious and logical first step in what would doubtless be a very prolonged campaign, and the red-bearded _ettin_ was convinced that raiding Tharveld first would lose them the element of surprise.

Which was fair, and Loki agreed with him. However, he also agreed with Calder that taking their scant number of able fighters to assault a Jotun keep, even a small one, was absolutely suicidal.

Thor would probably have decided to attack Wrensdotten anyway, relying on his own raw force and heroism to carry the day and damned to any other consequences, Loki mused. Thank goodness he was possessed of more of a set of wits than his idiot adopted brother.

'We'll first go to Tharveld,' he said, loudly enough to override the continuing argument, 'And then we'll take Wrensdotten.'

Calder frowned.

'Forgive me sire, but the handful of fighters – if that – we gain at Tharveld will be unlikely to-'

'We're not going to _attack_ Wrensdotten,' Loki told him. 'But we are going to take it.'

'Eh?' Rangvald squinted at him in confusion.

'I take it you have a plan,' Jerrik said with a small smile.

'Of course.' Loki indicated the location on the map. 'Tharveld takes meat and furs from the lowlands borders into Wrensdotten regularly enough, and they use Jotsir slaves to move them. So first we infiltrate Tharveld and place ourselves in amongst their slaves in order to get into the fortress. Then, during high sun when the Jotuns are most sluggish, we open the gates of Wrensdotten from the inside, the others join us to slit their throats, and then we claim Tharveld at our leisure.'

'Ha!' Rangvald grinned. 'The dimglows sure as shards won't be expecting _that_!'

'Most of the smaller settlements keep their Jotsir shackled when engaged in labour,' Jerrik pointed out. 'We'll either have to break out or…' he glanced at Loki and a small smile of realisation dawned on his face '…or _appear_ to be confined like the rest.'

Loki grinned at him.

'Leave that to me.'

After a little debate and discussion Loki decided that he, Calder and Jerrik would be the ones to sneak their way into Tharveld. Rangvald very much wanted to join in but someone so obviously ettin-blooded would be distinctive enough to give them away.

It took a bit more arguing over the logistics but eventually things got moving and Loki learned a new appreciation for the bone-numbing _cold_ of Jotunheim, which at night was intense enough to be near-paralysing. He was glad he'd opted to keep his leathers on beneath the concealing layers of the raggedly furs and scraps of hide; what apparently constituted clothing for the majority of the enslaved Jotsir was barely fit for wearing at all, let alone insulating against the cold. They were also unarmed, which Loki wasn't particularly delighted about, but it was generally forbidden for captive Jotsir to carry blades and the three of them wouldn't exactly be a martial force to contend with anyway so it was better to lower the risk of discovery.

Snjókoma, Jotunheim's one moon, was high and full in the dark sky by the time they reached the point where Gyda, who had insisted on accompanying them that far, would take the horses back and leave them to proceed on foot. Slaves did not ride.

'I'd really prefer you weren't going into the middle of a Jotun stronghold with such light escort, sire,' she said grimly as Loki handed her the leading rein of his mount.

'More of an escort would rather defeat the purpose, however,' he pointed out wryly, but that didn't seem to mollify her overmuch and her expression remained distinctly grumpy until the night's snowfall vanished her behind them.

It was harder going on foot and drawing perilously close to dawn by the time the little huddle of low hide huts came into view. Tharveld was fairly typical of a lesser Jotun settlement, or so Skadi insisted, being little more than a makeshift camp of maybe a dozen tents crudely fashioned from hide and bone. At least it was easy enough to identify the one particularly shabby excuse for a shelter that the Jotsir slaves slept in, huddled together as much for lack of space as need to share even a little warmth.

They found places to conceal themselves amongst the others, although after such a hard journey it was unnecessary to feign sleep and they struggled blearily upright with the rest as the feeble sun began to peek over the horizon. At least they wouldn't have to spend very long in the wretched place, having timed their arrival for the day the sled convoy would set off for Wrensdotten.

Calder and Jerrik were thankfully nearly as proficient at deception as Loki himself, so together they were just another trio of sullen and oft-beaten Jotnir slaves joining the handful already chained to the back of the sleds. The main difference, of course, was that _their_ chains were merely illusions, conjured by Loki with a small twist of _seidr_ to match the rest.

For the first day of the trip to Wrensdotten, enduring the casual abuse and idle violence of the accompanying Jotun seemed to convince the rest of the convoy that they were just any other trio of Jotsir. On the second, however, as the they huddled together for an evening ration that could generously be called meagre, one of the others reached up to yank down the furs wrapped around Jerrik's face.

'Who _are_ you?'

'Quiet,' Calder said in a low voice, nudging his own furs down to expose enough of his features for them to know they didn't recognise him either. 'If you value your future.'

The man's eyes widened.

'You're – you're from Laegskulda!' he exclaimed in a low hiss.

'Yes, friend,' Jerrik said. 'We're bound for Wrensdotten, to open its gates. Will you help us?'

'Why? What good will it do?'

'It is the first step on a greater path,' Calder said to him.

'And what _path_ would this be?'

'The one to freedom.'

The man scoffed openly.

' _Freedom_. To do what, overthrow Thyrm and rule Jotunheim?'

'That was the general idea, yes,' Loki said mildly, earning himself a confused look. 'Unless you _enjoy_ cowering in the shadows, half-starving and being beaten by Jotun who steal your women to bed whenever they feel like it.'

'Why should we care one whit for your opinion, stranger?'

Glancing warily at the nearby Jotun, but seeing them too distracted by their own rations to care about what their thralls were speaking about, Loki uncovered his face and levelled the group with his most penetrating gaze.

'I am Loki Laufeyson, and I am here to reclaim my throne.' He grinned when this was met with slack-jawed stares. 'Are you with me?'

That got only more gawping but then the Jotun returned and cuffed them all back to action, insisting on travelling through the rest of the darkness so as to reach Wrensdotten with the dawn. It was a hard enough night of laboured travel before the blizzard started, but by the time they actually drew the drag-sleds up to the gates he was less than impressed with the so-called fortress. It was little more than a run-down ruin of grey stone, the structure propped up more by heaps of snow and placements of ice – Jotun makeshift engineering – than any real bulwarks. It looked as though it would fall down in a stiff gale.

Still, it did have walls, and gates.

Inside was little better. The Jotun seemed to occupy what remained of the stone buildings while the Jotsir made do with lean-tos and bivouacs hidden in whatever corners gave some respite from the ever-present winds. The Jotun from Tharveld seemed happy enough to leave their own slaves chained to the sleds in the middle of the expansive courtyard, chilled and exposed, while thralls presumably native to Wrensdotten handled the unloading.

Loki waited until the giants had moved off, presumably to dicker over their trade goods, and then dissolved the illusory chains.

'I don't think I can break these,' Jerrik warned, examining the real shackles on their unwitting compatriots who were still tied to the sled.

'Then don't.' Loki examined the mechanism and smirked. Crude, and not enchanted to prohibit use of magic. A small manipulation of _seidr_ had them open, and Jerrik raised his eyebrows.

'Impressive.'

'Hardly.'

'Sorcery,' one of the just-freed men exclaimed, rubbing at his wrists and then staring up at Loki in open awe. 'I don't know if you are who you say, but either way-' with a glance at the others '-aye, we're with you.'

'Good. This way.' Loki had already noted a route up to what remained of one of the towers, which would be an ideal vantage point to watch for the signal from Rangvald that the rest of the fighters were ready for the gates to open. 'Stay quiet.'

'Let me, sire.' Calder quickly darted in front of him as they slipped through an archway. He glanced warily around a corner. 'Looks clear. They're all too busy bartering.'

'To the top, then.'

The wrecked stairs were rather treacherous and they ended up having to scale the perilously ice-slicked walls to reach the ruined top storey of the tower, but amazingly the stonework held. At least the Jotun would be unlikely to look for their mysteriously absent slaves up here.

It was several hours of tedious and rather cold waiting – with Calder occasionally hissing at their new companions to be quiet – before a single bright flare of orange flame appeared. Easy to spot when one was looking for it, but brief enough to be close to invisible to others.

'That's it,' Jerrik confirmed. 'Now the hard part.'

They made as rapid a descent as was practical only to find a few Jotun loitering in the courtyard along with a score of very broken Jotsir bodies.

'Oh, shards,' one of the men from Tharveld, who had earlier whispered his name as Nagmar, gasped in horror. 'They're beating them to death. They think we're hiding amongst them.'

'Now, then.' Loki jerked his head towards the gates. 'While they're distracted.'

'Sire?' Jerrik echoed, clearly dismayed with this idea.

'If we try to interfere without the others the only result will be _our_ bodies joining theirs,' Loki hissed. 'Is that what you want?'

'He's right,' Calder said quickly. 'Let's go.'

Sticking to the shadows, they hastened across to the enormous posterns. Loki wondered if his initial plan of using a glamour to distract any Jotun in the courtyard would still be worth trying in the name of saving more Jotsir, but dismissed the idea. The giants were far more involved in abusing their slaves for it to be worth the handful of extra seconds of distraction that could provide.

Besides, he preferred to keep his ability to conjure an illusory version of himself close to his chest, so to speak, to retain the element of surprise for when he _really_ needed it.

The gates were heavy but with the help of Nagmar and the others from Tharveld they got them unlatched and moving before the left hand one suddenly flew open as if yanked from the other side. Loki stumbled and hurriedly righted himself to see Rangvald looming over him.

'Hallo, sire. Lovely day for it!'


	6. Darker Things

Without further comment Rangvald shoved past, war hammer raised, and went barrelling straight into the nearest Jotun as the rest of the fighters from Laegskulda piled through the opening behind him. Chaos erupted in the courtyard and Loki barely ducked under a hurled ice spear when he was pulled sharply to one side.

'Might be needing this.'

He grinned at the dagger Keila proffered. It was of good make, obviously pilfered from Asgard, and sat well in his hand.

'Thank you.'

The battle itself – if one could even call it that – was astonishingly brief. Formidable as the Jotun were in physical might, they were clearly beyond flabbergasted at the entirely unexpected attack from an equally unexpected quarter. When it was done, they piled the corpses into a heap to burn outside the gates and then set about breaking out the rest of the Jotsir of Wrensdotten.

'What of Tharveld, sire?' Gyda asked Loki. 'There are still Jotun there.'

'Take a party back and kill them all,' he told her. 'Don't let any escape to warn others.'

'Yes, sire.' Without hesitation she moved off, picking fighters out of those still milling around to accompany her, and he noted the immediate obedience with approval. Ettin-blooded or not, Gyda clearly knew how to serve a king.

'Excuse me…are you Loki?'

He glanced back and found himself taking an involuntary moment to admire the rather beautiful woman who'd called for him. Unlike the ragged furs of most of the Jotsir, she was clad in a rough approximation of a woollen shift, which did nothing to conceal the pleasingly feminine curves of her figure. Hair the colour of golden honey was twisted into a braid at her neck and bright blue eyes set into delicate features stared at him with a mixture of curiosity and awe.

'I am,' he said, turning to face her properly. 'And you are…?'

'Sibbe Heikirsdottir. I'm – I was – one of the _raektandur_ here.' Her gaze dropped briefly.

' _Breeders_?' he echoed in vague revulsion.

'Women of the Jotsir who…receive the baser attentions of the Jotun,' Calder supplied, stepping up to his shoulder with a grim expression. Loki felt his eyes widen.

'You mean-'

'Yes,' Sibbe said, bluntly but with no small amount of bitterness. 'And those of us that survive it long enough are _privileged_ to die birthing the next generation of slaves.'

Loki had to look away from her, feeling an unexpectedly raw surge of anger that made him set his jaw. _The humans called me a monster. They know NOTHING of monsters_.

'What do you need?' he asked Sibbe, battling to keep his voice level.

'There are others still secured in the towers,' she said. 'Locked up, or chained or – or worse. Will you release them?'

 _What else would I do, pray_? He motioned to Calder.

'Take as many people as you need. I want _all_ of them – every Jotsir in this fortress – unbound and freed before sundown.'

'Yes, sire.' Calder gave Sibbe a half bow. 'You know the fortress better – will you come with us to be sure we find every door?'

'Of course.' She glanced once more at Loki. 'Thank you. Sire.'

He contented himself with a nod, aware that if he gripped the haft of his dagger any harder it might well snap in two, and forced a controlled exhale as Calder and Sibbe moved off.

'Bed slave, eh?' Keila's rather glib tone made him whirl on her, but his wrath died abruptly at the pitying look on her face. 'Poor bitch. Thank the ice every day I never caught no giant's eye 'afore the Bifrost fell.'

'Do the Jotun not even bother with their own women?' Loki asked.

'Oh aye, they bother, but rare to get a babe from it these days. After all-' she spat on the ice '-more _fun_ to rut a slave to death on the offchance you'll get a pure frostblood out of it. No shortage of slaves to try on, neither.'

'That can happen?'

'Sometimes. Not often. But more often than when they screw their own.' She shrugged. 'Pure Jotun, half-frostblood, babe of both…Jerrick says are bound to happen now and then.'

'Charming.'

'Anyway, we got a head count, barring any more hidden inside,' she added more cheerfully, 'And of course whoever else comes in from Tharveld.'

'How many?' he asked, pushing back to practicalities.

'Seventy-nine more bodies able – and more'n willing – to take up arms, fourteen oldsters, and a dozen young'uns, including four babes-in-arms.'

Loki stared at her for a moment.

'You mean we _doubled_ our fighting force just from this one small holding?'

'Yup.' She grinned at him. 'And s'all we can do to stop them oldsters grabbing pikes and wanting to march along, too. Got everyone right riled up, it has.'

'If they're able and willing to fight then give them weapons,' he said firmly. 'I doubt the Jotun go any easier on the slaves with silver crowns.'

'True, that. We'll be short on spears, though.'

'There must be an armoury here.' Loki slipped the dagger into his belt. 'Let's find it and see what we can use.'

A few of the newly-liberated Jotsir were more than eager to assist with mapping out the rest of Wrensdotten, which it turned out could both house and arm the fledgling army with ease. With Sibbe's assistance they found and freed eighteen young women, eleven of whom promptly asked to be given weapons to join the fighters. The following morning, Gyda returned from Tharveld accompanied by a train of sleds laden down with supplies and two dozen more Jotsir, fifteen of whom were able-bodied and eager to arm themselves. Jerrick was disappointed – though not surprised – that there were no other _seidrmenn_ amongst the liberated.

'It's rare to find anyone of the Jotsir with the touch,' he said to Loki. 'Even rarer to find one with the training and ability to use it.'

'How did you learn?'

'From my mother.' The older man shrugged. 'I'm pure Jotsir, so she didn't die birthing me. In fact she lived to a ripe and curmudgeonly old age, by our standards. I'd rather hoped to find an apprentice – _seidr_ is too useful not to cultivate – but the talent often wanes after childhood and by then it is too late to be retrained.'

'Try the youngsters, then,' Loki pointed out, earning himself a vaguely aghast look.

'You don't mean to take _children_ into battle?'

'They won't be children forever, and we must think beyond the immediate.' A shrug. 'If any of them have the knack then better to start training as soon as possible.'

Jerrik actually smiled at that – a rare expression on his dour face.

'There's more use for _seidr_ than in the field of war.'

 _To defeat and destroy is always the weaker side of might, little raven. To build, to change, to grow and evolve, that is the true meaning of power_. Frigga's words drifted back alongside the childhood memory of his own lessons in her private libraries as a child of only a dozen summers – a glimpse of light, the dart of a shadow, the unlikely shape of an intricate snowflake coming into being in the palm of his hand. The sound of his own laughter, astonished and delighted at the sight of something his mighty brother _could not do_ …

'Precisely.' Loki felt himself smile, and struggled to hide the bitterness of it. 'All the more reason to check now, surely?'

By the fifth day in Wrensdotten the place resembled less of an invaded fortress and more of a forward base. Loki had even found a cleared wall of cold, white stone in the main stronghold which was the perfect surface upon which to redraw the map he'd spent so long memorising.

'The would-be king's first victory, eh? And won with guile and cunning rather than force of arms.'

He turned to see Skadi in the doorway, leaning heavily on her staff with a lopsided grin.

'Force of arms against a fortress of Jotun would be a rather ridiculous concept.'

'No belief in the glory of seemingly-hopeless battle, then?' she asked, eyes dancing.

'No belief in pointless defeat rather than creative victory.' He hopped down off the rock he'd been using to reach the topmost part of the wall and dusted the charcoal off his hands. 'I didn't know you'd planned to come.'

'You mean, of course, that you want to know why this tiresome old woman has shown up when you didn't send for her.'

That made him grin.

'I would never say that.'

'Not out loud.' She came into the room and settled herself on one of the fur-covered stools. 'So, now you know of the _raektandur_.'

'Like my mother.'

'Yes. Like your mother.' Skadi cocked her head. 'The label bothers you.'

He frowned and abruptly realised why he'd been dwelling on the issue in his own mind.

'Yes,' he admitted. 'It does. If the poor wretches suffer such torments from the Jotun then why segregate them so? Is their misery and enslavement somehow worth more, or less, than the rest of their kind?'

' _There's_ the measure of it,' she said, almost gleefully, like he'd just solved a puzzle. 'The mothers of the first generation – the Aesir abandoned to Jotun captivity – are always seen as pitiable figures, powerless to control their fates. But the second, and third, and all the others…while some may be plucked from their families to satisfy a giant's lusts, who's to say they do not entice their attentions on purpose? The _raektandur_ sleep on furs rather than stone, and eat better for as long as they survive, and endure less violence to mar their pretty faces. Not all of them women, either – there's many a Jotun female who fancied her chances at conceiving with a Jotsir man in her bed.'

Loki folded his arms thoughtfully.

'So some of the Jotsir would think of the breeders as some kind of…privileged class. Deliberate whores, rather than unwilling victims.'

'Fostering resentment. Division.'

'That's idiotic.'

'Is it?' She pointed her staff at the doorway, clearly indicating the courtyard beyond. Frowning now, he went through the archway to the top of the stairs outside.

'…would you know about fighting other than for your breath on your knees?' someone – he didn't recognise who – was jeering in the direction of Sibbe and some of the other new recruits from Wrensdotten, who were trying to avoid listening to them despite getting obviously riled up.

'Or on your back,' someone else muttered, to some unpleasant laughter.

'Oi!' Keila interjected herself between the two groups. 'I dint see any of you breaking free 'till you was rescued. Pipe it down!'

'Shut up, _ettin._ '

'Probably jealous she ain't seen _real_ giant cock in so long-'

'Hey!' Sibbe stepped up to Keila's side. 'What gives you the right to insult one of the fighters who freed us?'

'Freed _us_ , more like. Dint free you from much aside from the need t'close your legs now'n then-'

There was some more shouting. One of the agitators snarled something at Keila which ended in the word _whore_ , at which point Rangvald stormed into the middle of everything and demanded to know who'd insulted his girl.

'You see,' Skadi said from behind Loki's shoulder, 'This is how the Jotun _really_ control us. Chains in the head. Chains in the soul, borne of a slave's envy that however little he may have, someone else may have _just enough more_ …'

' _Enough_!' Loki raised his voice to a bellow and injected a little _seidr_ so that it echoed around the stony courtyard. He was rather gratified – and relieved – when the scene in front of him fell silent, and all eyes turned to the stairs as he started down them. 'Are you all such _idiots_? Don't you realise the Jotun would cheer and revel if they saw you like this, at each other's throats? And over what – some tiny difference in the nature of your enslavement at their hands?'

That, he was pleased to see, got some dropped eyes and awkward shifting of shoulders.

'If this is all it takes to set _us_ against one another-' he paused for a moment to let that emphasis sink in '-then what hope have we of winning freedom for this realm? The Jotun will slay us as we stand bickering – and they would be right to! Any people so fragmented do not _deserve_ freedom.'

'What would you know about slavery or hardship,' someone grumbled from the back, 'Growing up a coddled prince in the Realm Eternal?'

'Who said that?' Calder barked, both he and Gyda's hands going straight to their swords.

 _'_ Hold,' Loki said to them. Well, it had been bound to happen sooner or later – he couldn't expect blind loyalty from all of them indefinitely. He'd have to play this right, or he'd lose them all. They were watching him with a mixture of expectance and – on a few notable new faces – a measured level of disdain. It reminded him uncannily of the humans allied with Thor on Midgard.

 _You lack conviction_.

Taking off his surcoat and letting it fall to the floor, he took a purposeful step forward.

'You think me spoilt? You think me _weak_? I have fallen through the void into darkness worse than your worst nightmares can conceive.' Reaching up, he tore at the lacing of his undertunic and yanked it up as he turned, revealing the inch-deep gouged scars in the flesh of his back which even now were as healed as they ever would be.

There were actually a few gasps.

'You think _this_ is weakness?' he shouted, turning back and dropping the cloth. 'You know _nothing_ of what I have endured. There are a thousandfold more evil things than mere Jotun in this universe and I have _met_ them! I've _bled_ at their hands! I've tasted _defeat_ , and _abandonment_ , and _pain_ , and I've tasted them _alone_ , with no family, no allies, no _friends_ to soften their sting!'

Quite a few jaws had dropped and there was no disdain left on a single face. Only astonishment, and a growing impression of awe.

'I am Loki, son of Laufey, and of Farbauti of the Jotsir. Jotunheim is _my_ realm. I _will_ take back my rightful place as its king,' he went on, dropping his voice to a low, foreboding tone, 'And I will not forget any who stood against me. If you are not with us-' motioning to indicate Calder and the others '-then you are against us. Against _me_. Your betrayal will not be forgotten, and when the dawn of freedom rises to melt the frost, you will lie as still beneath it as the Jotun that enslaved your mothers.' He swept his gaze around the gathering and had to consciously hold back a smirk of satisfaction. Oh, he had them now.

 

 

'Either stand with us – _all_ of us, as one – and walk toward that dawn, or take your own path and be left behind.' Pulling the dagger from his belt, he closed his fist around the hilt and lifted the blade horizontally above his head. A traditional Asgardian salute, but that was of no matter. 'Well? What say you?'

For four awful, timeless seconds the courtyard was silent. It was Gyda who first drew the short knife from her belt and held it up in kind.

'The dawn.'

Calder did the same, followed by Keila, then Jerrick, Halvor and Herleif, and Sibbe.

'The dawn!'

Rangvald's war hammer lifted to join the others, and suddenly everyone was hefting their weapons above their heads and calling out. The volume became deafening, as though enthusiasm would somehow make up for the previous spoken slight.

'The dawn! _The dawn_!'

' _King Loki_!' someone screamed, and suddenly it was part of the chant.

'King Loki, and the dawn!'

Loki gave up and let the grin escape, with only the barest effort to modify it from a delighted smirk to a beatific smile. _King Loki_. To finally hear a crowd, even such a small one, calling his name in adulation…it was beyond intoxicating. It was _bliss_. It was everything he'd always wanted. Everything he'd always _deserved_.

And how he could _use_ it…

The cheering finally died down after a long few minutes and everyone in the courtyard went back to arming or whatever else they'd been doing with renewed enthusiasm. Loki stowed his dagger and watched for a moment more to be sure, but it had indeed had the desired effect – the new recruits from Wrensdotten were moving freely amongst the others now, former breeders or not, and there was little to no sign of the previous ill-will in the ranks.

He started to stoop to recover his coat but stopped when it was draped around his shoulders from behind instead.

'Well now,' Skadi chuckled as he straightened and glanced back at her. 'A very kingly speech, indeed. Must have used every ounce of silver on that gilded tongue, hmm?'

'They needed to hear it,' he said, turning back into the room.

'Oh, yes. Perhaps even as much as you needed to say it.' She clapped him on the shoulder. 'I'll not ask about the scars you took, lad. Tell me when you're ready. As you say, there are darker things in the universe than the machinations of the frost giants and that accursed snake who dares to call himself Allfather.'

Loki barely heard her, eyes wandering over the map he'd just finished. Elmstedt was less than three days away at a good pace – a sizeable town, he recalled Calder telling him, with a high population but minimal fortifications. Not too far beyond that, assuming they could cross the river with speed, was another small stronghold, Skalaholt. His gaze followed the chain of towns and dwellings, none too distant from the other thanks to the Jotun's primitive technological levels and the inter-reliance of their settlements on trading for essential supplies. Depending on casualties – which were bound to increase – and the number of Jotsir enslaved in each township, he could hardly expect to double the size of his force with each conquest…but there was no reason why, with a little care, he couldn't reach the larger city of Walenneck, nestled at the foot of the Spine mountains, with a respectable force of close on a thousand.

Taking Walenneck would give him a firm grasp of the continent around the lowlands as well as setting his army up for a relatively straightforward progression up the Vimur River towards Thrymheim, although getting from there to the Well of Memory would be trickier, necessitating as it did making passage across the desolate flatlands and the ruined, skeletal once-forest of Nallinfallur…to say nothing of then crossing the Spine again to reach Utgard, but he daren't assault the old fortress-capital of Laufey's kingdom at anything less than the peak of his army's strength. He would only have that once every other Jotsir on Jotunheim was free and had taken up arms in his name. Well, and the cry of freedom, of course.

He huffed out a breath and folded his arms, smiling dimly to himself. It was going to be a long – a _very_ long – campaign.

Best to get started.


	7. The Scar That Bled Him

It took over a month – as measured by the turning of Snjókoma, Jotunheim's one tiny moon – for the Jotun to fully catch on to the fact that there was something of a slave rebellion taking place on their world. Keenly aware of the advantage that surprise bought his forces, Loki ensured that every frost giant they came across was killed swiftly, the bodies buried deeply or burned to ashes, to preserve the relative secrecy of the uprising.

Still, even Jotun apparently had something like the wit to try and send messages, and archers couldn't shoot down _every_ gyrfalcon they saw in the air. The blasted birds were canny beasts and flew high enough to make hitting them a considerable chore, although they were the primary means that the Jotun used to communicate between settlements.

The army – at eight hundred able bodies strong now, discounting those currently wounded and temporarily unable to fight, the force more than qualified for such a term – was currently camped in the low foothills below the southernmost tip of the Spine, carefully concealed out of immediate view from the gates of Walenneck.

Loki had sent Calder, Jerrick and Sibbe into the city covertly to get a better feel for its defences and layout. Rumour, hearsay and vague memories from the Jotsir of lesser surrounding towns were far from sufficient intelligence to go about assaulting their largest target yet. Calder was by now used to acting as his king's eyes and ears – Loki considered him as close to a second in command as a ruler could have. Jerrick's skilled use of _seidr_ made him invaluable for such infiltrations, of course, and Sibbe had already proven herself many times over to be far more than a pretty face.

'They should have returned by now,' he said grimly, shielding his eyes with one hand to peer at the enormous icy ramparts. Beside him, Rangvald snorted.

'You know Calder, sire. It takes as long as it takes. It is a _big_ city.'

'Only Narvesthal and Utgard are bigger,' Halvor agreed. 'Hundreds of Jotun live there. Hundreds of Jotsir, too. Perhaps as many as a thousand.'

'Let's not count our recruits before they're free.' Loki gave him a wink. 'Besides, we've still to figure out a way to get over those walls.'

'Or through them,' Gyda said dryly. 'A handful of half-tame _brunnmigi_ and some sturdy logs…'

' _Something_ would certainly get run through,' Herleif muttered.

'For the last time, we are _not_ going to try and capture _brunnmigi_ and turn them into battering rams,' Loki said with a grin. If nothing else the enormous frost beasts – which he remembered with alarming clarity from his ill-fated excursion to Jotunheim with Thor, Sif and the Warriors Three what seemed like centuries ago – were essentially insane, and had a tendency to try and ram or at least trample more or less anything in their path. No wonder the Jotun who used them as guardians, as Laufey had, kept the wretched things frozen in icy prisons until they were needed.

Admittedly the idea of finding a way to turn the gigantic horned monsters against their native masters held a certain appeal, but there were far more practical things to consider before the idea of trying to even partially domesticate such savage creatures.

'Sire-' Halvor suddenly pointed '-four, just cresting that rise. Too small for giants. Some of ours?'

'Four?' Loki squinted but confirmed the count. 'Jotsir yes. Ours…possibly.'

'Let's get back to the camp either way,' Rangvald said. 'They'll be here soon enough.'

It was indeed the advance party, but they'd brought with them a skinny man so covered in dirt and scraggly facial hair that it was impossible to guess his age at a glance.

'This is Orlyg Sigvidsson, sire,' Jerrick said, indicating the newcomer. 'A mask-conjurer of considerable aptitude, I'm glad to say.'

'You're too kind,' Orlyg replied, with a crooked grin. 'Most call me naught but a trickster and a cheat, but only when they think my back is turned.'

'We owe our escape from the city to Orlyg's talents,' Calder added. 'Walenneck is a boiling pot, ready to crack and spill over at any moment. The Jotun have…well, apparently news of our march reached them long ago and they've been hard at work cowing the Jotsir here.'

'Proof they've no brains in their frozen heads,' Orlyg said with a chuckle. 'The harder they beat and work us, the more of us crave the idea of rebellion.'

Loki battled to keep his face solemn.

'Walenneck is ready to rise up?'

'Walenneck _is_ rising up, sire,' Jerrick supplied. 'There are slave riots almost daily. Some of the lower wards already belong to the Jotsir and have Jotun corpses piled in the streets.'

'The smoke we saw isn't cooking fires in the slave quarters,' Sibbe added. 'Some of the buildings have been set alight. And the gates…'

'The _gates_ ,' Orlyg interrupted, 'Are wide open. Most of the Jotun have retreated to the upper districts and send falcons demanding reinforcements from Utgard.'

'It'll be hard fighting to take the upper parts of the city, sire,' Calder said. 'They're pretty well dug in up there.'

Loki stood up, grinning.

'Then they're dug into their own graves. Let's get them buried, shall we?'

' _HA_!' Rangvald swung his hammer up onto his shoulder. 'Now _that_ sounds like fun!'

While others got to the business of rousing their forces to march on Walenneck, Loki consulted with Calder and Orlyg to get a better idea of how to disperse them once they were inside the city. The place was fortunately not built with the specific aim of withstanding an attack, unlike Utgard, but its winding thoroughfares were mazelike nonetheless and there were far too many dead ends where troops could be isolated and cornered.

Finally they settled on a course that would necessitate rather more destruction of the city than Loki had originally planned, but the easiest way to minimise the risk of the winding streets was to simply bring down enough rubble from the surrounding buildings to block off any route other than that of their own passage.

Getting inside the walls was easy enough – the rebelling Jotsir had indeed left the gates wide open – but getting the rioting former slaves into something resembling a cohesive force to assault the city keep was another matter entirely. In the end it took a great deal of shouting – as well some bruised skulls on the _ettin_ population from Rangvald – and nearly five days to get things into some semblance of order. Even then, the Jotun in the keep were indeed well fortified, and the archers were kept busy shooting down gyrfalcon messengers day and night.

'This is turning into a grind of attrition,' Calder said grimly as they observed Gyda hustling another trio of _ettins_ with improvised battering rams of icy rock up towards the keep gates. 'We're taking too many injuries and losses, still they remain, and one of the messages to Utgard must surely have slipped through by now. Meaning reinforcements will be on the way.'

'Aye.' Jerrick frowned. 'Halvor and Herleif have a few squads back with the archers acting as rearguard, but if the Jotun come in force from that direction they'll barely slow them down long enough to warn the rest of us.'

'A pity we can't starve them out,' Loki muttered. Unfortunately the ability of the Jotun to function for extended periods without meaningful sustenance gave them a considerable advantage over their comparatively fragile Jotsir descendants.

'Most vexing, sire,' Jerrick agreed dryly.

'Let's pull some of the siege troops back to reinforce the rear guard.' Loki glanced back at the narrow line of archers with a grimace. 'Simply piling bodies against the fortifications won't achieve much, and we should expect reinforcements to arrive from Utgard any day now.'

Calder immediately went to see to it and Loki regarded Jerrick thoughtfully for a moment.

'You referred to Orlyg as a _conjurer_ , rather than just a _seidrmann_. What's the distinction in your mind?'

'Orlyg can produce only illusions and glamours with no substance. A fine skill, of course-' Jerrick inclined his head in recognition of Loki's own abilities in that regard '-but there's a lot more to the sorcery of Jotunheim than what can be seen. Or… _seen_ to be seen.'

'Hmm.' Loki held his hand out and with no small effort used the _seidr_ to create a handful of sand which settled into his palm. 'Physical conjuration is…draining.' A thought occurred. 'On Asgard you created ice from nothing – blocking walls, and missiles that took flight from your hands.'

Jerrick shrugged.

'The _seidr_ of the ice. As my mother taught me. Very taxing, but powerful. It seemed…easier, on Asgard. I'm not sure why…like the power was closer to reach. '

'Interesting.' Tossing the sand aside, Loki filed that away for future deliberation. 'How taxing is it to do here?' He indicated the icy walls that surrounded the keep of Walenneck. 'What about shaping what is already there?'

'That should not be hard. The Jotun command the ice at will, after all.' Jerrick suddenly brightened, seeing what he was about. 'You're thinking of eroding their defences that way? The bulwarks may look icy, but they've bones of rock.'

'Bones can be broken, especially if exposed, as I'm sure Rangvald would agree. Besides, the stone will be brittle after being frozen for so long.'

'That's true.' The older man broke into a grin. 'By the ice, if we can _unmake_ their defences…'

They experimented first on smaller ice shards and overhangs, of which there were hardly a shortage on the snowy plains. Loki was rather astonished to find how easily the ice shaping came to him, especially given how strenuous he normally found any kind of physical manipulation. But then, as Jerrick had said, the Jotun shaped the ice like clay in their bare hands so it made sense that their descendants would have inherited the knack.

 _Don't force the world to mould to your will, little raven_. Frigga's lessons floated through his head without conscious decision even now. _To shape the physical world is to lean into it, to encourage it, to tease it into the form you desire. A light, subtle touch can change more than the mightiest force, if it is applied correctly._

'Not so tricky, with a capable teacher,' was Orlyg's verdict after he, too, had experimented on some hanging icicles with Jerrick's supervision. 'My father taught me the art of the glamour as a boy, though he had little of a shaper's touch.'

'I'm sure we still have much to learn from each other,' Jerrick said with a grin. 'But for now let us focus on bringing down Walenneck, eh?'

The _ettins_ and other besiegers seemed rather confused when the three of them made their way past the slew of improvised bludgeons, catapults and battering rams to regard the high, icy wall and frozen-over gates of the citadel with critical eyes.

'There.' Loki raised a hand to indicate. 'If that segment shifts, the entire bulwark will-' he was cut off by an icy spear hurled from above which nearly skewered him where he stood '-ahem, weaken.'

'Perhaps from behind the mantlets, sire?' Jerrick suggested.

'Yes, I think so.'

The shaping was considerably more awkward without direct line of sight, and the spears and frozen blasts from the Jotun beyond the walls made concentration rather difficult. Eventually they settled on a staggered sort of pattern, each manipulating the ice as far as possible before ducking away from the barrage of fire and another leaning out to carry it on.

It took well over an hour of some of the most taxing _seidr_ work Loki had ever undertaken at length, but finally an enormous crack appeared in the wall and shards of frost started raining down as the entire thing began to give under its own weight. Clearly Jotunheim architecture was not designed to survive without the ice holding it up.

That, Loki mused, was something that would need remedying. _After_ the realm was his, of course.

'There it goes!' That delighted roar could only be Rangvald, but Gyda was faster and led the charge of ram-carrying _ettins_ which rapidly turned into something not entirely unlike an avalanche of blades, clubs and bodies as they crashed through the now-brittle citadel walls.

'We might want to get out of the way, sire,' Jerrick shouted over the din as the rest of the Jotsir fighters that had been waiting behind surged forward over the rubble to join their _ettin_ cousins in butchering the astonished Jotun.

'No.' Loki drew his dagger and started after the rest. His own bone-numbing weariness after such prolonged effort with _seidr_ aside, he didn't want to risk not being seen by his troops at the final conquering of Walenneck. A king ought to lead his forces.

The frost giants inside the citadel were in full rout. Although some of them tried to fight to the bitter end with ice-summoned shields and weapons, each shattered and fell under the blows of the _ettin_ troops and the swarming, stabbing mass of Jotsir warriors and archers. The citadel fell in less time than it had taken to weaken the walls, but Loki was rather surprised when a single Jotun in an ornate robe – the closest the beasts got to actual clothing – was dragged before him by several fighters.

'This is Dizas, sire,' Gyda supplied, 'The _former_ lord of Walenneck. He…requested to speak with you.'

'I see.' Loki folded his arms and regarded the giant, forced to its knees before him by the spears of the Jotsir escorting it. 'And what would you speak of, Dizas, former lord of Walenneck?'

'You are no heir of Laufey,' the giant growled. 'You're nothing but a weak, pathetic mongrel. And your little insurrection will never succeed. When Utgard's warriors arrive-'

'Yes, yes-' Loki rolled his eyes '-can we bypass the empty threats and hyperbole, please? I assume you _have_ succeeded in making contact with Utgard, then.'

Dizas' mouth curled in a snarl, but he nodded.

'And King Thyrm – the _true_ king of Jotunheim – will have your head on a pike, little _Asgardian_.'

'He'll have to remove it first.' Loki cast about and spotted a nearby fighter carrying a halberd. 'May I borrow that a moment?'

He hefted it briefly in both hands and then swung, taking a moment to be impressed by the keenness of the axe blade as Dizas' head bounced on the icy cobbles of the courtyard. There was a vaguely astonished look on the giant's face.

'Thank you.' Handing the halberd back to its now-gleeful owner, he kicked the remains of the body over so it sprawled on the ground. 'Gyda, kindly have this added to the pile to be burnt.'

'With a good will, sire,' she replied, grinning broadly, and motioned over his shoulder to where someone was apparently waiting for him. Loki nodded acknowledgement and turned, but his good humour at decapitating the giant evaporated the moment he saw the look on Calder's face.

'What is it?'

'It's…well, sire, perhaps you should see for yourself.' Swallowing hard, looking like he was torn between violent nausea and blinding rage, the other man motioned towards the wide doors into the main keep.

Inside, the sound of sobbing and wailing drew Loki up the winding stairs to the slave quarters above, but he stopped short in the doorway. His limbs seemed unwilling to take another step, rebelling at the sight that greeted him.

'They-' he had to stop, not even able to find the words to express his shock.

Sibbe looked up from where she was sitting at the bedside of one of the stricken. Tears streaked unashamedly down her face.

'They cut off their arms and legs. Left them alive, so they could still – could still _use_ them – but so even if we took the city, they couldn't – they can't…'

'Please,' the maimed woman on the cot turned her head, the only thing left of her that could really move, and looked beseechingly right at Loki. 'Please…give us mercy. Let us go.'

Loki dimly registered more steps behind him on the stairs, then an exclamation and the sound of retching from Herleif. Ignoring it, he managed a few more steps into the room and dropped to his knees beside the dismembered Jotsir.

'There must be something we can do,' he murmured. She was beautiful; delicate, elfin features, a mane of yellow-gold hair and bright blue eyes like light on the ice.

'This is beyond even the most skilled healing _seidr_ ,' Jerrick said grimly from behind him. 'They may live, the – the severing wounds are clean, but-'

'Mercy,' the woman pleaded again, water brimming over her cheeks. ' _Please…_ my king.'

'Loki,' Sibbe whispered, 'There's nothing more we can do for them…except this.'

He swallowed hard and drew his dagger, lifting it in both hands to place over the crippled woman's heart, flexing his fingers around the haft and fully aware of his own reluctance to bring it down. She actually tried to arch up off the cot into the blade.

' _Please_.'

Setting his jaw, he drove it down in one smooth stroke. She gasped once and then lay still, her eyes glassing over as death took her. Loki let his head fall to the butchered remains of her shoulder, feeling his own tears fall – in sorrow, in frustration, in desperate and livid _rage_.

'Calder,' he heard Sibbe say, as it from a thousand leagues away, 'Please can you try and find Tofa, and Ingun and Thyri – any of the other former breeder slaves. It'll be…a little easier for them.'

'Sire-' Calder still sounded hesitant, and when he felt a hand on his shoulder Loki whirled angrily.

'If mercy is all we can offer then _give it to them_ , for pity's sake! Do as she says!'

That seemed to shake the others out of inaction and in short order a small group of women – and one man, Valborg, whom Loki recalled had been a breeder slave at Lekden – came up to give the release of death to the dozen _raektandur_ of Walenneck's citadel keep.

'Jerrick-' Loki caught the sorcerer's arm as he passed '-I want them buried with the rest of our own dead, not burnt on the pyres. Full warrior's rites. It's little enough, but-'

'I'll see to it,' Jerrick assured him, and immediately looked to Sibbe and the others. 'Wrap the bodies and we'll bring them down to rest with the other fighters we lost.'

Loki sat down on one of the empty cots as bustle erupted around him, and barely registered Sibbe's light touch on his hand as she made to leave.

'Thank you. That…means a lot. To all of us.'

He managed a nod in response, but then she was gone and he was alone in the chamber with an unexpectedly all-encompassing wave of fatigue washing over him. Not just battle weariness, or the tiredness after a taxing bout of spellcasting, but something deeper…like an exhaustion of something deep inside that he'd never before really felt or thought of.

Reaching out, he picked up his dagger and with movements so practiced as to be near-automatic cleaned the blood from the blade. Rich, red, _real_ blood, not the blackened ichor of that flowed through whatever the Jotun had in place of hearts. Suddenly his hand closed around the blade, cutting it cruelly into his palm and somehow giving tangible voice to the anger that rose like the furious front of a storm.

 _How dare they._ _How DARE they._

'Now, lad, there's been enough blood spilt today without needlessly adding yours.'

Skadi's voice, light as always but with a hint of mild chastisement, as though he were a boy caught sneaking a pastry from a kitchen tray, broke the spell. Loki hastily cleaned the dagger again and sheathed it, clenching his now-bloodied fist to try and stem the blood trickling down his fingers.

'Finally, you anger for more than yourself,' she said, sitting down beside him and pulling his hand over into her lap, tugging at his fist until he opened it. Her tongue clucked disapproval and then she drew a scrap of cloth from somewhere within her many-layered furs to bind the wound.

'What they did here was beyond butchery,' Loki said, battling to keep his tone level. 'It gained them nothing, didn't delay their defeat by a single minute. But still they-' he had to stop, clenching his eyes shut to stop more tears from falling.

'There's no shame in weeping for the pain of others, child,' Skadi said gently, tucking the last of the cloth into a knot and then turning his hand over to hold it in both of hers. 'Truth be told I'm almost glad to see you mourn. I'd feared you saw us as nothing more than tools to take your long-awaited throne, and be damned to the souls laid out along the way. But _these_ -' she dabbed at the dampness of his cheeks with one finger '­- _these_ are the tears of a true leader, who feels for his people and truly _sees_ them for all they have been denied, and all they could yet be.'

Loki chewed at his lower lip for a moment, aware that he was trying to deny the truth of her words and wondering at himself for the realisation.

'How can you be sure I'm not simply angry, or frustrated at the setback for morale and the lack of new fighting bodies?'

'Look me in the eye and tell me that is so.'

He met her gaze and set his jaw, trying to push the furious anger back into a more familiar direction.

'I thought not,' she said with a smirk, and patted his cheek. 'You may like to think yourself heartless, son of Farbauti, but I see through that trickster's mask! Know what I see?'

Loki risked a small grin.

'A troublesome, brazen delinquent?'

'Well, other than that.' Her face softened. 'I see a boy with a full heart, always kept in the shadows, striving to please and unable to understand why he was forever denied. I see that heart taking a wound so deep its scar turned sorrow to madness and bitterness to bloodlust. I see the boy lost, and angry, and convinced so greatly of his own wickedness that he saw no option left but to sink into the worst of himself.' Lifting a hand, she stroked his cheek gently and with such tenderness that he felt his throat close up. 'And now I see the boy who has been lost in the dark so long that he shies away from the light, lest it reveal the scar that bled him so deep.'

When he tried to look away from her she took a hold of his chin more firmly so he was obliged to keep eye contact.

'True kings wear their scars with pride, Loki. Even those from what seems like a defeat. They are still trophies. Proof that no matter how deep the cut, and how much it hurt, they _survived it_. Yes, you've taken lives – innocent ones – and you've done terrible things, in your own name as well as the name of others, but _every_ scar you bear you should still wear proudly. You're a survivor. Like all Jotsir. Bent, bowed, battered, beleaguered…but never broken.' Then, with a dry wink, she let go of him with a quick pat to his cheek. 'And far, _far_ stronger than that sanctimonious oaf who calls himself Allfather will ever be, sitting as he does on his fat old arse on a golden throne in the Realm Eternal.'

Loki broke into a chuckle before he could stop himself – never in ten thousand years would he have wagered on hearing Odin referred to in such a manner – and Skadi grinned at him.

'Now, that imp's laugh is _all_ your mother. She'd be proud of you, lad. Not of everything you've done, I'll admit, but of everything you are…and could yet be. Remember that. Now-' levering herself upright on her staff and making a show of shaking out her furs, all business-like bustle again '-I wonder if anyone has had the sense to start up a cooking fire in the courtyard yet…and shouldn't you be doing something about preparing for Utgard's reinforcements? Stop sitting around and moping and help an old woman down the stairs.'

Laughing freely now, though the anger that burned in his breast was far from forgotten, Loki offered her his arm and helped her to the steps. The _raektandur_ of Walenneck, and all the others who suffered and had suffered at the brutality of the Jotun, would not be forgotten.

He couldn't save them all. He understood that now. But he could – and would­ – avenge them.


	8. Running Water

'What I don't understand,' Calder said as they regarded the once-again redrawn map on the wall of the upper keep, 'Is why Dizas would lie about a message to Utgard. What would he hope to gain from it?'

'Some bargaining chip for his own life, perhaps?' Gyda suggested.

'The reinforcements could have been held up,' Jerrick said. 'The plains can be treacherous if the drifts come in heavy, even for Jotun.'

'No.' Orlyg scratched slowly at the side of his nose. 'Heaviest fall down there was a while ago, and it'll have compacted down to _packsnö_ by now.'

'There's been at least one melt in the last month,' Gyda put in. 'Could well be _skare_ down there as we speak. Speedier for sleds.'

'And why in the name of all the frozen tides would Thyrm send his reinforcements on _sleds_?'

Loki hid a grin at Orlyg's mocking tone. He didn't regret his decision to bring the grubby man into his inner circle, as the man had a useful and frankly entertaining bluntness that was pleasingly devoid of anything like tact or other such social niceties, but some of the more strait-laced seemed to have difficulty in gauging the conjurer's real intent.

'Either way,' he said quickly, to forestall another bickering argument over terminology, 'I think we can agree that if anyone was coming from Utgard they should have been here _days_ ago.'

'Aye,' Rangvald said, folding his arms and nodding. 'It's _hjarn_ over most of the way there for sure.'

'That's what I _said_ ,' Orlyg exclaimed, and Loki sighed. The Jotsir had literally _hundreds_ of words for snow and ice which covered every possible contingency or situation. These ranged from generally broad terms like _snjór_ to more descriptive ones like _moldél_ , a sudden and unexpected snowfall, to even the absurdly specific words like _slydda_ , meaning snow so wet it might as well be rain. He wondered sometimes how much of the linguistic drift was down to time and exposure to the Jotun, and how much was simply the need for additional vocabulary to describe Jotunheim which neither baseline Asgardian nor the more flexible All-Tongue could provide.

It was, he reflected idly, something he would gladly have liked to investigate further from an academic standpoint, if only the place wasn't so heavily involved in being at war at present.

'The scouts should be due back any time now, unless there was trouble,' Calder put in before Gyda could snap something back at Orlyg. 'Hopefully they've found – ah, speaking of the scouts…'

Loki went to the window and leaned out to see, but only Halvor and a handful of the others that had gone out were getting off their horses in the courtyard. Which was concerning…except there was no sign of any injuries or recent battle.

'Halvor?' he called down. The younger man glanced up and then raised a hand in acknowledgement, making for the main keep door.

'Where's Herleif and Keila?' Rangvald asked when Halvor came in. 'And the others? Did you-'

'No, they're fine. They – ah – they stayed with what we found.' Halvor dusted snow – _yrsnö_ , to be more precise – off his gloves and grimaced. 'It's…well. We found the reinforcements from Utgard, or at least what's left of them.'

'What's _left_ of them?' Loki echoed. 'They were…attacked?'

'Aye.' Halvor accepted the cup of piping hot moss tea that was poured for him and took a grateful sip. 'Two dozen Jotun warriors, all shredded. More than sword work, too. Keila said they had arrows with hardened points – stuck straight through their hides – and I swear some of the damage looked like spellwork. And that's not all, either.' He produced a scrap of the rough hide more commonly used than paper amongst the Jotsir for small amounts of writing, and slid it over the table.

Jerrick picked it up and frowned at the charcoal marks before passing it to Loki. The runes were crudely copied – few of the rebels were literate, although Skadi, Agnetta and several others had begun spreading the previously coveted skills of reading and writing through the ranks – but most closely resembled the old language of the Jotun than the often eclectic pigeon dialects and scribing of the Jotsir.

' _In the name of_ – I can't make out the rest.'

'It says _in the name of the true king_ ,' Jerrick supplied, lacing his hands together thoughtfully. 'The rest underneath isn't pure Jotun – it's fragmented with Asgardian at best – but I'd hazard the intended meaning is _Loki, son of Laufey_.'

'It was painted in Jotun ichor on the snow, and carved into the bodies,' Halvor supplied. 'Like a hunter's claim mark.'

'But who would do such a thing?' Gyda asked. 'Who _could_?'

'Two dozen armed Jotun warriors from Utgard…' Calder frowned '…well, _we_ could…but why would Thyrm send so few? A feint, perhaps? Or does he just underestimate us that much?'

'I'd bank on the latter,' Jerrick said. 'You've all seen the faces of the giants in the holdings we take – nothing but shock and surprise that their weakling slaves should dare to rise up at all, let alone in unity and to victory. Either way, why kill them and display their bodies to be found in such a manner?'

'I don't like it,' Rangvald muttered. 'Could be a trick. Jotun who dislike Thyrm, maybe trying to weaken him while putting the blame on us.'

'Or other Jotsir who've risen up,' Orlyg said. The others all stared at him. 'What?'

'You think there could be others?' Loki asked, turning the piece of hide over in his hands.

'Why not? Walenneck rose up and started setting fires before you got here. The harder the Jotun squeeze, the more of us slip through their fingers. Ever since Utgard was devastated by the Bifrost there have been whispers of revolt. Is it so hard to believe?'

'That's a fair point,' Halvor said. 'When Herleif and I escaped from Fjalir we weren't even sure which way to go, there were so many rumours and tales of uprisings across the province. We went to Laegskulda in the end more because there would be fewer Jotun there than from any real surety we'd find other free Jotsir. Others might well have taken a different path.'

'It's certainly possible,' Calder admitted, looking at Loki. 'What say you, sire?'

'The possibility is certainly welcome.' Loki ran the hide through his fingers thoughtfully. 'Halvor, is the camp secure?'

'Aye, sire. They're bedded in well. Cold enough even the stink of dead giant flesh is barely there.'

'All right.' Standing, he considered for a moment. 'I need to speak to Skadi first. Get a horse ready for me below – I want to see the bodies. Jerrick, Calder, I'd welcome your eyes.'

'Should you not have more of an escort, sire?' Gyda asked as he made for the doorway, but Loki waved her off and hastened down the steps to the former slave bunkhouse. Skadi had co-opted one end of the narrow room and appeared to be deep into preparing one of her more interesting-smelling poultices with Agnetta at her side.

'What do you want, lad?' the old woman asked without looking up from the pot over the fire.

'A word, if I may.'

'Very well. This is almost done,' she added to Agnetta, 'Let it stew and then it can go to the healers.'

'I know how to make it, mother,' Agnetta said with measured scorn, but took the vessel with her when she left, giving Loki a brief nod of acknowledgement which he returned politely as she passed.

'So.' Skadi indicated the stool beside her, and he sat. 'What brings you to an old woman?'

'The scouts came back,' he said. 'They found the – well, what looked like – the reinforcements sent from Utgard.'

'But?'

'They were all slain. Viciously. With this, scrawled in their blood and carved into their corpses.' He held out the hide scrap and waited until she'd perused it.

' _In the name of the true king, Loki Laufeyson_. Not the work of anyone we know, I assume?'

'No.'

'This is Halvor's hand. Sloppy lines.' She handed it back to him. 'But, assuming he copied it correctly, I'd guess it comes from further north, towards Gastropnir and Mímir's Well. The far northerners tend to scribe as though engraving into solid rock all the time.'

'Orlyg is convinced that it's more Jotsir,' Loki said.

'And you are not?'

'I'm concerned that even if it is, they may not be…amicable to joining us.'

She chortled.

'You mean you fear that some enterprising young Jotsir has rallied others around him and laid claim to your name? Because that is the sort of thing _you_ would think of doing?'

'Well, aside from your word I hardly carry proof of my heritage with me.'

'Hmph.' She sat back and rearranged her furs. 'You want to go and investigate for the chance of new allies.'

'Or new enemies. Better forewarned,' he added when she rolled her eyes.

'Yet you come to _me_ for counsel.'

'I wish to know your thoughts on the matter.' Loki cocked his head. 'A wise king should not be afraid to hear the views of others, should he not?'

'Whether he heeds them or no?'

'I didn't say I wouldn't heed you.'

'But you're asking a question to which you already know the answer.' She prodded him in the shoulder with one bony finger. 'You already know you're planning to track down these other Jotsir, for good or ill, and nothing I nor anyone else can say will stop you.'

He sighed.

'You think me foolish?'

'I think you idiotic to go haring off.' She smiled slightly. 'But sometimes the idiotic thing to do can also be the right one.'

'Then you agree I should go?'

'I don't disagree. If there are allies – and I'm inclined to agree that the chances are good – then it'll take the son of Laufey to bring them into the fold. If there are enemies…well…it'll take a trickster with a silver tongue to out-manoeuvre them to our advantage.'

Loki stood with a chuckle.

'One day, old woman, you'll give me an answer in a straight line.'

'One day. Not today.' She winked at him. 'Go carefully, lad. 'Ware of wolves on the ice.'

That seemed an oddly foreboding warning but Loki tried not to dwell on it, especially once he, Halvor, Jerrick and Calder were galloping away from Walenneck towards the scouting party's impromptu camp. At least Herleif and Keila had the sense to hunker down in case they were spotted by less friendly travellers.

'Definitely spellwork,' was Jerrick's conclusion after investigating the bodies of the Jotun. 'Well practised, and disciplined. Look-' he indicated the neat holes on the flesh of many of the giants, already puckered and cold-burned black at the edges '-that's true battle magic. Impressive.'

'Good blades and arrows, too,' Calder added, rolling the remains of a Jotun over with one foot to exhibit the clean severing of its head. 'Knew what they were doing.'

'Right they did,' Halvor agreed with enthusiasm. 'No sign of Jotsir blood anywhere. Stalked, ambushed, killed, marked and gone.'

'Guerilla fighters,' Loki murmured, half to himself, hunkering down by one of the bodies to regard the runes hewn into its torso.

'Suggests they've been doing it a while,' Calder said. 'Perhaps longer than we have.'

'Is there any chance we could track them?'

'No chance,' Herleif sorted. 'No tracks, even before the new snow.'

'Maybe not by eye,' Keila said, thumping him on the arm, 'But the land's a giveaway. Only so many places they could have come from. Highs, lows, passages. Bit of luck, if we're fast enough…'

'You're joking,' Halvor said to her. 'Nobody could track anything smaller than a herd of _brunnmigi_ through terrain like this!'

'Get splintered, dimglow!'

Loki stood and held up a hand for silence.

'Keila, do you really think you can find them?'

She stuck her tongue out at Halvor and then nodded firmly.

'Aye. Found more with less. Da taught me.'

'I believe her,' Jerrick said. 'The _ettins_ are the best trackers on Jotunheim. Nobody knows the wilds better, save maybe the Jotun themselves.'

Loki glanced at Calder and saw his nod of agreement.

'All right. Keila; you, I and Jerrick will mount up and follow what trail we can. Calder, take everyone else back to Walenneck and resume the path upriver towards Thrymheim. There are more than enough fighters to take the smaller settlements along the Vimur with minimal losses. We'll double back around and meet you at Seterfjord…all being well.'

'And if all is _not_ well, sire? Calder exclaimed. 'This could be anything – bait, a trap, a lure to separate you from the rest of us-'

'And it could be exactly what it looks like, which is the prospect of adding new and experienced allies to our number.'

'But-'

'Orlyg can handle any minor fortifications the small towns may have, and you've seen more than enough of the tactics of war to lead the force without me.' Loki clapped him on the shoulder. 'You're as much a warlord as I am, at least in practical terms. Gyda has good instincts for battle and Sibbe's view is often helpful if something unexpected happens. Move with surprise as much as you can. Just try not to get everyone killed before you reach Thrymheim.'

Calder sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

'Will you at least take some more men, sire? Let me send for Rangvald to accompany you-'

'No. We're better moving quiet and fast. Besides-' Loki flashed him a grin '-you'll need Rangvald's arm to smash through whatever barricades Orlyg weakens.'

'I'd really prefer if-'

'Oh, go thaw on it, Calder,' Keila exclaimed, clambering onto her own horse. 'We staged a jailbreak from Asgard in broad bloody daylight under the Allfather's nose. Tracking our own people over the flats'll be an easy stroll!'

That seemed to do it, a few more token protests from the others aside, and so the three of them turned their mounts north into the freezing wind to skirt the westernmost foothills that grew into the Spine. It was a long few hours but the always-dim daylight of Jotunheim was darkening into true night when Keila suddenly paused and leapt from her horse to scrabble about on the ground.

'Told you!' She looked up, triumphant. 'They camped here. Half dozen of them. No horses, though…'

'They're on foot?' Jerrick exclaimed. 'They must be half mad.'

'Or all mad.' Loki glanced around. Riding through the night would be uncomfortable at best, but if they stuck close to the hills they might escape the worst of the wind. 'Which way, Keila?'

She rummaged around in the snow for a moment longer and then frowned, standing up to cast about as it looking for a sign.

'Further north. They'll have stuck to the hills so they could travel without stopping for the night frost. I reckon they were pushing, but if we follow on horses we should catch them up.'

'Let's hope they're feeling talkative, then,' Jerrick muttered.

In fact it took a hard four days and nights of almost non-stop travelling before Loki called a halt, realising that even the sturdy Jotunheim horses were all but ready to drop. Ducking further into the hills, they found a small crevasse lined with grey moss to refresh their mounts, and sheltered enough to risk a small fire to melt more drinking water.

'We've made good time, all things considered,' Jerrick said, idly drawing out a rough map of the Spine into a nearby snowbank. 'Our friends are swift movers, even without horses. They must know the territory well.'

'Are there any settlements nearby?' Loki asked. 'Anywhere they might be using as a base?'

'A few, but most are little more than camps that move with the seasons.'

'Won't find no townships in these parts,' Keila agreed. 'But the mountains are riddled with caves and the like. After all, we weren't sitting in no fortress back in Laegskulda, were we?'

'True enough.' Jerrick glanced over as the horses started to settle to the ground with plentiful grunts and snorts. 'I think they've the right idea. Let's rise with the dawn and see if we can make better speed after some rest.'

Loki was exhausted enough from travelling that sleep came easy, although he'd been in the wilds of Jotunheim for long enough that it felt comparatively strange not to wake up in a snowdrift when Jerrick prodded him the following morning. The horses were certainly in a better temper and set off at a brisk trot, but it was another six days – and another reluctant overnight rest – later before Keila admitted that she'd lost what little trail there was.

'Only thing I can guess is keep going north,' she said with a shrug. 'Can't see no sign of camp or settlement here, and no signs of tracks neither.'

'No tracks, but…' Jerrick suddenly stooped to lay his hand flat on a piece of bare rock and broke into a grin.

'What is it?' Loki asked him.

'The raw face gave it away. Feel.'

Dubious, Loki placed his palm on the stone. To his lasting astonishment, it felt vaguely _warm_.

'Get splintered,' Keila said to Jerrick. 'I thought they was just a myth!'

'I must admit, so did I, but apparently we were both wrong.' Hopping down, Jerrick caught his horse's reins and began to lead it down into a nearby gorge. 'If there's _anywhere_ outside of the lowlands one might conceal a guerrilla force…'

'I don't suppose one of you could possibly explain what you mean?' Loki asked mildly.

' _Blahellar_!' Keila said excitedly. 'The blaze caves! The old _ettins_ tell stories about a place where the snow never settles and the ice always melts. Never thought it were real, though.'

They dismounted and led the horses along behind Jerrick. The clang of the heavy hooves on bare rock rather than the usual crunch over ice and frost seemed oddly foreign, and there was another sound just at the edge of hearing that was similarly bizarre…

'Running water,' Loki said aloud, abruptly recognising it. 'There's a stream here.' Casting about, he spotted the melt flow coming down a crack in the rock to settle into a small pool beneath. 'Look!'

Jerrick and Keila both exclaimed in surprise – the little rivulet was far from a normal happenstance in Jotunheim, after all – but the horses had fewer compunctions and barged through to take a drink from the pool.

There was even greenery – other than the usual all-pervading moss and lichen – with several ample growths of rock willow and even a few hardy tufts of saxifrage peeking from the cracks, their tiny white star flowers seeming to wink against the bare stone. Keila broke into a smile of pure delight and leaned in to examine the blooms, running her fingers over the narrow petals in wonder.

'Never seen no flowers before,' she said, a trifle embarrassed when she registered Loki's confused stare. 'Not here, anyways.' Giving one blossom a last pat with a single finger, she withdrew her hand.

'The running water must have let them survive long enough to take root,' Jerrick observed, running a hand over the damp stone. 'Seems warmer. I'd wager we're getting closer.'

'Skadi told me that Jotunheim wasn't always so barren,' Loki said quietly to Keila as they walked on, leaving the horses for now as the ravine had narrowed enough to make the big beasts impractical to bring along.

'Aye. We've all heard her stories – her and the other oldsters. Passed down from the First.' The young woman constructed a shrug. 'Not been much green here in a giant's age. I never thought there'd be so much green in all the realms 'till I saw Asgard.' She sighed and glanced over her shoulder at him. 'Think Jotunheim'll ever be like that?'

'Perhaps,' he allowed, 'If we can defeat the Jotun and stop the world falling to pieces for long enough to figure out how.'

Any reply she might have made died on her lips as the unmistakeable sound of many bowstrings being drawn taut filled the narrow gorge and all three of them froze.


	9. Let Him Be Tested

'Well, that doesn't sound good,' Loki murmured.

'Hold fast, strangers,' a commanding voice called from above. 'Hands above your heads.'

'Sharding hell,' Keila called back. 'We're not Jotun, or are you blind?'

'Your heritage speaks nothing of your allegiance. Throw down your weapons.'

Jerrick glanced back and caught Loki's eye. He dipped his chin in agreement. A little glamour to conceal and confuse, and they could be out of there before an arrow was fired. Just needed the right moment and-

They both whirled at the flash of _seidr_ as a cracking noise echoed through the ravine. A thick barrier wall of ice now blocked the way they'd come, tendrils of lingering frost creeping over even the deep-warmed stone.

Damn.

'You can't flee. We have you outnumbered and outmanoeuvred,' the voice warned. 'Throw down your weapons and you'll not be harmed.'

'Have we your word?' Jerrick asked.

'If you wish it.'

'I'll not accept the word of someone I can't see,' Loki said dryly. 'If we're to parley then show yourself.'

He'd expected a bit of discussion, or at least a pause, but instead a young bearded man with a mane of ash-blonde hair stepped out from behind a boulder without hesitation. He had a strung bow over one shoulder and carried an impressive-looking spear in his other hand.

'I am Solmund, son of Ulfar, and if you part with your weapons then you'll come to no harm at my troop's hand.'

Keila and Jerrick both looked at Loki. He shrugged. There seemed to be little worthwhile end to debating the situation. Being careful to keep his other hand clearly visible, he pulled his dagger from its sheath, laid it on the ground and then kicked it a few steps away, inclining his head towards Solmond pointedly.

Slowly, Jerrick did the same, and then – with noticeable reluctance – Keila shed her bow, quiver and dirk, nudging them out of immediate grabbing distance with her foot. There was a moment of silence before, at Solmund's nod, a flurry of activity erupted, with archers and other fighters emerging from all over the gorge, some seemingly from impossibly thin cracks in the stone, to pick up the discarded weapons and harry the three of them further into the maze of rocks.

'I think we've found our guerrillas,' Loki said dryly to Jerrick, who just snorted in response.

'That's far enough,' Solmund called after a few minutes of walking. 'Cover their heads.'

'Hey!' Keila protested. 'We're no Jotun!'

'We've learned to be cautious.' Solmund motioned and others moved in carrying opaque hoods of thick leather that would muffle sound as well as sight. 'You came here seeking _us_ , remember.'

'Let them do it,' Loki said, glancing up at him. 'I don't suppose there's any remote chance you're taking us to your leader, is there?'

If anyone made a reply he didn't hear it as the sack was thrust over his head, reducing his world to blackness. A firm grip settled on each of his arms and he soon abandoned any idea of trying to keep track of his steps when it became apparent that the pair escorting him were turning him about and taking a decidedly erratic path, most likely to prevent that very thing.

He had to admit he was rather impressed.

The air grew close and still after a time, and then became _warm_ in a way he'd not felt since arriving on Jotunheim. It was humid, too…of course, the _blaze caves_ Keila had mentioned must be underground thermal springs.

The smell of steam stirred the recollection – laced with almost untainted fondness – of a boyhood trip to the caverns of Hvergelmir in the perpetually mist-laden realm of Niflheim. He and Thor had snuck away from Frigga's watchful eye to look for the dragon Nidhogg and ended up chasing water snakes into a pitch black grotto. Thor had hefted his little brother onto his shoulders and then Loki had conjured a fluttering glow-light to guide them back out. They were of course both soaking wet and covered in slime, looking more like filthy guttersnipes than royal princes. While Frigga scolded and fussed, mortified at the escapade, Odin had just roared with laughter and clapped them both on the shoulder with one huge hand.

 _'A spirit of adventure worthy of the heirs of Asgard. But if anyone else asks, I whipped you both soundly for disobeying your mother, understood_?'

The memory actually brought a sad hint of a smile to Loki's face. It was one of the few times he'd felt truly equal to Thor in the eyes of both his brother _and_ their father; an equal partner in childish mischief, not simply the embarrassingly weaker and bookish younger sibling whose presence inexplicably had to be tolerated.

He was startled out of the reminiscence when the hood over his head was whipped off to reveal a rather high-ceilinged cavern entirely devoid of the ice that seemed to reach into every inch of Jotunheim. It was clearly part of a larger complex, but even in this one section he could see columns of steam and mist rolling over the stony floor from the bubbling open pools of water.

'Hot springs,' he heard Keila whisper from somewhere to his right. 'The stories _are_ true.'

'Now then.' A much older man wrapped in dark furs stepped out of the throng of people watching from a cautious distance away. His hair was cut shorter, and that and his dark beard were both streaked with the silver of many winters. 'I am Arnthor, son of Thiodolf. Who are you and why were you following our hunters?'

Jerrick – who presumably by virtue of apparent age had been deemed to be the leader of the invading trio and positioned at the front – glanced pointedly over his shoulder at Loki. Barely resisting the urge to grin, Loki stepped forward and tried not to relish the way all the eyes in the room shifted to him.

'I am Loki, son of Laufey, and of Farbauti of the Jotsir. You've apparently been slaying Jotun and leaving notes claiming to be doing it in my name, so it seemed only polite to stop in and say hello.'

'By the tides,' Arnthor exclaimed, hooking his fingers into his belt and rolling his eyes. 'You must think me the realm's biggest simpleton, that I'd swallow such a fiction.'

'While I am a famously good liar, somewhat ironically I'm actually telling you the truth about this,' Loki replied mildly. 'I _am_ Loki Laufeyson.'

'You're a smooth-tongued cur, I'll give you that.'

'Watch your mouth, you dimglow,' Keila spat. 'He's your _king._ '

'Sure, and I'm the Allmother's busty serving wench,' someone mocked from the crowd behind them.

'He _is_ your king!' she protested, gesturing to Jerrick. 'What's more, me and him's two of them what rescued him from the Allfather's prison in Asgard!'

'That's also actually true,' Loki put in helpfully.

'By the ice, man,' Jerrick said to Arnthor, 'You can _see_ that we're Jotsir, as half-blooded as you, and your man there-' indicating Solmund, who stood nearby '-saw us seeking you out. What _possible_ reason would we have to lie?'

'Listen, _seidrmann_ , do you know how many other men have passed through this place claiming the name of Loki Laufeyson?' Arnthor said to him with measured disdain. ' _Five_ of them. The first was an escaped slave with delusions of godhood. The second was a Jotun under a particularly cunning glamour. Two more were faithless opportunists, and the last was genuinely insane after seeing every other slave in his holding put to slaughter. So-' glancing at Loki with barely-concealed contempt '-I wonder which you will be?'

'I'll give you _faithless_ , you-' Keila began in a rage, but her short charge towards him was arrested sharply by the intervention of several bystanders, who seemed to find the entire performance rather darkly amusing.

'What can we possibly say or do to convince you?' Jerrick demanded. 'You say you act in the name of the true king of Jotunheim, yet when he arrives at your doorstep you call him a swindler. I understand your reticence – truly, I do – but how exactly had you _planned_ to obtain proof?'

'I don't suppose you have a gene-seer hidden in one of those hot springs, perhaps?' Loki asked dryly, gesturing to the nearest one. 'That might speed things up.'

'They came from the south of the Spine, Arnthor,' Solmund said suddenly. 'They had horses with them, and they'd clearly been travelling a while. Surely we can't deny the possibility altogether?'

'Ah, someone with sense.' Loki grinned at him. 'I do _so_ admire an open mind.'

'You'll keep your tongue between your teeth, pretender, lest someone cut it off,' Arnthor snapped, and might have gone on if a small commotion at the far end of the hall hadn't made him glance back. The gaggle of bodies parted with obviously respectful deference to a diminutive figure in wrapped leather and furs. Loki was put in mind of a miniature version of Lady Sif – the same determined, obstinate air at odds with delicately feminine features – but this woman's intricately braided hair was closer to his own raven black than Sif's rich brunette, and she was barely a finger's-width taller than Keila.

'No need for discourtesy, Arnthor. He wants to be tested, let him be tested.' Steel-grey eyes flicked over Loki curiously. 'Put him in with the _vargr_.'

This seemed to meet with considerable enthused amusement from the others in the cavern, while both of his companions immediately looked aghast.

'Are you _mad_?' Jerrick exclaimed. 'You have a _vargr_ …here? _Captive_?'

'What's a _vargr_?' Loki asked Keila in an undertone. She shot him a look of pure fright.

'Great-wolf. Tall as an _ettin_ , with jaws that can crack solid stone. Travel in packs across the flats during the deepest colds and they're _deadly_. My da slew one, once – but it was old and half-dead anyway, and it still nearly killed him.'

'I see.' Raising his voice, Loki addressed the petite woman directly. 'May I ask how throwing me to a great-wolf to be devoured will help the situation?'

'It'd shut you up,' someone grumbled, to some laughter, but the woman held a hand up for silence.

'The _vargar_ are the guardians of the realm. They can neither be broken nor tamed, but they yield and obey to _only_ the right and just lord of the ice…the true king of Jotunheim.' She smirked and made a small show of looking him up and down. 'If you _are_ the son of Laufey, the _vargr_ we keep will not harm you. If not…'

'I see.' Not being accustomed to dealing with wild wolves – the closest he'd ever come was the ungainly horde of hunting hounds that followed Volstagg around the palace of Asgard – Loki wasn't exactly confident that he could convince this _vargr_ not to murder him, but if this business about the guardians of the realm was true then in theory he wouldn't need to. After all, he _was_ who he said he was…but would the great-wolf know that?

'Those are just old legends,' Jerrick was protesting. 'The _vargar_ are bloodthirsty, murderous beasts who'll as happily devour the flesh of Jotun as Jotsir and anything else they catch-'

Ignoring him, the woman gestured and several burly-looking fellows stepped up to usher Loki forward through the gap that parted in the watching throng.

'Any tips?' he called back over his shoulder, trying to sound flippant and not _quite_ succeeding.

'Don't get killed!' Keila shouted back.

'Oh, _marvellous_ , you know, that hadn't occurred to me at _all_ -' he gave up when one of his escorts gave him an unnecessarily hard shove through an opening into a smaller cavern before backing off a few steps. A wall of white ice, laced with _seidr_ to survive the warmth, barred his way, but in moments it had dissolved into tendrils of frost which reformed a barrier of criss-crossed icy shards behind him instead. He glanced back and saw the woman regarding him somewhat amusedly from the other side.

'Good luck, stranger.'

'Thank you,' he said, trying to sound cheery, and turned to regard the new hollow. It was considerably smaller than the main one but a lot darker, with only a single bubbling spring in a natural cauldron of rock. Pillars and boulders held shadows and shades more than enough to house a wolf, even a large one.

He ventured a few cautious steps forward and considered cloaking himself with a glamour, throwing up an illusion to distract the animal. But scent was tricky to replicate, and wolves saw more with their noses than their eyes. Besides, concealment wouldn’t get the mocking strangers to believe his identity.

A low growl made him freeze and he slowly turned in the direction of the sound. The beast was indeed _enormous_ – even standing on all fours the top of its head would comfortably reach halfway up his chest – and currently making a thorough exhibition of the array of _very_ sharp-looking teeth in its mouth.

 _All beasts are cautious, more so than men._ Frigga's words from so long ago floated into his mind. _In order to show trust they must be given good reason. Never underestimate how much the wild creatures of the Nine Realms know of what they see. Respect them, little raven, and though they may still present a danger, they will respect you in turn_.

Loki regarded the _vargr_ for a long moment. It held its ground, still growling and baring its teeth, but seemed inclined to be cautious – most likely due to the absence of its pack. Perhaps a show of conviction would help. Slowly, he raised his arms out to his sides.

'I am unarmed.' Not that the presence of his dagger would be exactly reassuring, given the size of the wolf. 'I'm not here to hurt you.'

The wolf paced a little but did not cease its noise. Carefully, wary of any sudden movements, Loki crouched down in front of it and gingerly began to extend one arm. It snarled, yellow eyes narrowing, and then abruptly seemed to calm. Its nostrils flared, catching the edge of his scent, and the growl died to be replaced by industrious sniffing.

More afraid than he cared to admit, Loki shuffled a little closer so his outstretched fingers were barely a handspan from the wolf's snout. It sniffed again and made a low _hough_ sound, then leaned its enormous, shaggy-maned neck forwards. He barely controlled the flinch when the cold wet of its nose impacted his fingertips but the wolf seemed to register it, drawing sharply back with another small growl and pacing a little before seeming to decide that the movement had not been an aggressive one.

When it began sniffing at him more boldly he risked edging a little nearer so his arm could bend at the elbow. The wolf sniffed at his wrist with a low _wuff_ and then looked at him for a long moment before breaking into a yawn that became something of a whine, and licking at his fingers. He blinked, surprised at the action – not to mention the rough feel of the creature's tongue – and then felt his jaw drop in open astonishment when the wolf actually _nudged_ at his hand with its enormous snout, like a lap dog demanding caresses.

Marvelling at the softness of its fur, he reached up to pet the domed head and dared a quick scratch behind one pointed ear, which got another whine. Apparently satisfied, it collapsed ungracefully to its belly and settled its head on its paws, giving him a vaguely reproachful look when he made to withdraw his hand.

Smiling now in unabashed wonder and delight, Loki sat down properly beside the _vargr_ and stroked it as he would have one of Volstagg's hounds, running his fingers through the thick, ruffed mane. It was sleek and well-fed despite – or perhaps because of – its captivity, and when he smoothed down the rich coat over its back it lolled over onto one side, eyes sliding closed in a picture of canine indolence. After a moment the enormous tail began to thump against the rocky floor, making a sound like a tree branch banging against a window in a gale.

The silvery sound of _seidr­_ frost broke the quiet and the _vargr_ gave a low growl as if in warning at the disturbance. Loki gave it a rub behind the ears again and it quieted, but the ochre eyes remained open and fixed on the figures now coming into the cavern.

Murmurs of astonishment – and no small amount of awe – were bubbling through the invading press of bodies, but the dark-haired woman held a hand up to forestall open comment and took two strides into the room, regarding the scene for a long moment with an unreadable expression.

When she dropped to one knee and bowed her head deeply, the rest hurriedly followed suit – including, Loki noted with some amusement, Keila and Jerrick.

'My king,' she said solemnly, and then indicated those assembled behind her. 'Our blades and bows are yours to command.'

Loki inclined his head with what he was fairly sure was _not_ a particularly regal grin, but didn't much care at that moment.

'Honour having apparently been satisfied, we should turn this fellow loose so he can return to his pack, wherever they are.'

Exchanging somewhat worried glances, the small crowd shuffled aside to give a clear route to the outer grotto. The _vargr_ stood up – with every sign of reluctance – nosed at Loki's hand once more and then trotted peaceably through the space made for it, presumably to take its leave of the cavern complex altogether.

Loki stood up and made a small show of dusting his hands off.

'Now, perhaps someone will be good enough to tell me who was in charge here – until now – along with who you are and exactly what you've all been _doing_.'

The woman smiled at him with surprising warmth.

'Gladly, sire.' She rose and offered another half bow, gesturing to the archway. The crowd parted again for him, now with marked levels of respect, and he caught Jerrick and Keila's eyes with a small wink as he passed them. To his lasting amusement, Keila grinned right back.

'See? I told you not to get killed!'


	10. A Trail Of Graves

Another smaller cavern off the main one seemed to form a council room of sorts for the band of hunters, and once someone had brought in rough-hewn clay mugs of clear water from the nearby river Loki was finally able to get Arnthor to fill in some background. The older man appeared to in theory be jointly in charge of the group alongside Brynn, the small dark-haired woman, but in fact he deferred to her more often than the other way around. Whether this was due to her abilities as a _seidrmann –_ Jerrick was clearly delighted to find out she was the one who had put the neat ice-bore holes into the Jotun they'd found – or something else wasn't entirely clear.

'Everyone here is from the deep north, up near Gastropnir,' Arnthor explained. 'When Utgard was wrecked by the Bifrost, many of the Jotsir took off towards the lowlands to conceal themselves, but we had no such refuge to seek.'

'So you came into the mountains instead?' Jerrick pressed.

'No.' Arnthor looked at Loki. 'We rose up. Narvesthal fell first. We outnumbered the Jotun three to one there and they never expected us to contest their rule. It was bloody and cost many lives, but we took the fortress-city of the north and burned it to meltwater upon the ground.'

'You _burned_ Narvesthal?' Keila echoed. 'That place was big as Utgard in its day!'

'Yes,' Brynn said. ' _Was_. The Jotun drowned in Jotsir blood, and those of us that survived the slaughter destroyed what was left.'

'Then we began to move,' Arnthor went on. 'First the smaller camps and hamlets, then the last of the townships. We tore the Jotun to pieces in Thrymheim but our attempt on Utgard failed – Thyrm has rebuilt many of the city's defences since the Bifrost shattered them and we had not the means, though we far from lacked the will. Since then we've concealed ourselves here and harry the Jotun whenever and wherever we can, to show that however many of us lay dead against the walls of Utgard, we are neither gone nor defeated.'

Loki exchanged a glance with Jerrick. Narvesthal was a significant obstacle they'd been planning to tackle after liberating the settlements along the Vimur for additional numbers. The fabled fortress-town that looked out over the great ice wall of Gastropnir was the stuff of nightmare for planning a potential siege, but if it was gone…

'Have you a map?' he asked.

They did indeed – a rolled hide covered in scored ink, rather than a memorised charcoal scribble on the nearest flat surface, which was an improvement – and in short order Loki, Jerrick and Arnthor had managed to outline the general disposition of both their main force and the trail of ruined settlements the northerners had left in their wake.

'Sharding hell,' Keila said. 'Up the Vimur, through Thrymheim, take Hrolfsdalr, cross Nallinfallur and then there's none left but Utgard itself!'

'Possible.' Jerrick rubbed his chin thoughtfully. 'We'll have to get your people moved down from the north, though,' he added to Arnthor. 'We'll need every spear and bow to even think about moving on Utgard itself.'

'Moved down?' Arnthor frowned and then glanced back at Brynn. 'What you see is who we have.'

'What?' Jerrick stared at him. 'But you said you'd taken every township-'

'Aye, we did. And then we tried for Utgard, and we're all that's left.'

'How many?' Loki asked before Jerrick could exclaim again.

'Ninety six,' Brynn supplied. 'Nearly all armed. We've also a dozen or so youngsters who mainly act as runners and scouts, but they carry bows as well.'

Jerrick caught Loki's eye grimly; they'd clearly both made the same revised calculation. Even expecting many more losses, they had anticipated gaining upwards of two thousand Jotsir fighters from liberating the northern provinces. The expected size of the army to assault Utgard had just more than halved.

'We need to rejoin the rest of our forces at Seterfjord.' Loki pitched his voice at firmly confident that this was the only real obstacle, although his mind was churning. 'Preferably as soon as possible, so we're with them when they move into Thrymheim.'

'We'll have to go back south around the end of Walenneck and the end of the Spine, then,' Jerrick said. 'Unless there's a whole herd of horses hidden in another cave around here that's going to be a damned hard push on foot.'

'You want to go _around_ the Spine?' Brynn folded her arms and gave him a small smirk. 'Why do that when you could go _through_?'

'The Neck?' Keila gaped openly at her. 'You want to try and sneak this many Jotsir past the gates of Utgard through the only pass? Are you _mad_?'

'Not _over_ the mountains. _Through_ them.' She leaned over and tapped the map with one finger. 'The entire Spine is riddled with cave systems. We've already found plenty of hidden ways through into Thrymheim that way. How else do you think we've been able to harry Jotun on both sides of the continent so thoroughly?'

'And are these _hidden ways_ broad enough to move your full force to ours?' Jerrick asked pointedly.

'With a little care, yes. Though,' she added with a small grin, 'I doubt your horses will fit. It's a slither scarce fit for a wyrm in some places.'

'Just turn them loose,' Arnthor said with a shrug. 'Or butcher them. Good eating on a horse.'

'Waste not, want not,' Keila quipped, the notion of exploring the underground caverns seeming to have restored her good humour.

'We should send out some scouts first, while we break camp,' Brynn suggested. 'The ground isn't as stable as it was, and getting worse all the time. Want to make sure we don't end up stuck.'

'Very well. See to it – we'll aim to start out with the dawn tomorrow.' Loki tried not to be amused when she just looked at Arnthor, who nodded and moved off. 'Keila, can you deal with the horses?'

'Won't be the first time, nor the last,' she said cheerfully.

'Ninety six,' Jerrick muttered to Loki as they left Brynn to store the map. 'Ninety six instead of well over the two thousand we'd hoped…'

'Let's not think of that now,' Loki said to him. 'We've Thrymheim, Hrolfsdalr and Nallinfallur to take before we concern ourselves with the siege of Utgard. At least we're spared Narvesthal.'

'Narvesthal alone must have had a thousand Jotsir slaves,' Jerrick replied grimly. 'I'm not convinced that much loss is a fair trade.'

'Perhaps not, but it's done. No use second-guessing it now.'

While the camp busied itself with preparations to vacate the cavern into the depths of the Spine on the morrow, Loki took the opportunity to fill his lungs with the last fresh air they'd taste for a good while. It didn’t take long for him to find a convenient overhang to perch on near the entrance where he could observe without being seen. Interestingly the entire northern contingent – such as it was – seemed more militarised and far better ordered than the much larger force he'd left under Calder's command. Every last one of them bore weapons, except for the babes who seemed to live strapped into a rather ingenious sling-papoose of furs on the backs of their mothers, who were also armed. Even the youngsters acting as message runners – some as young as only a dozen summers – carried long-hafted blades or short bows, and clearly knew how to use them.

Loki found himself trying to imagine Sten, who was by no means weak or lacking in courage, similarly outfitted, and couldn't. He also realised that he was being watched.

'Whose idea was it to arm the children?' he asked, without turning his head. Brynn chuckled and stepped out onto the ledge to sit alongside him.

'It just happened. Those who don't fight can still be slain. Most would prefer to take down a Jotun or two on the way. I suppose other realms would deem it barbaric.'

' _Other_ realms?' He shot her a sideways look.

'You were raised in Asgard, yes? How old were you before you were expected to wield a blade for more than practice, or in defence of your own life and the lives of others?'

He inclined his head in acknowledgement of the point but met her gaze openly.

'This is not Asgard.'

'No, it isn't,' she agreed. 'No shining summers and towers of gold for us. Just the long frost. We're a hard people – hard and cold, like the ice. It'll be many generations before we warm or soften, if we ever do.' She looked away from him. 'If you care for my advice, you'll not try to hasten it along.'

'I had no such plan. Though…' he paused to take a proper measure of her '…you seem, if I may, colder than most. To have led them this far, with such heavy losses.'

Brynn turned to regard him thoughtfully.

'We left a trail of graves as we moved south, and countless more unburied dead at the gates of Utgard. Hundreds upon hundreds. But they died so that _thousands_ more would live – and live free – and they all knew that.' She flashed a mirthless smile. 'Will King Loki not climb to his rightful place over the bodies of friend and foe alike?'

He cocked his head, curious at the lack of bitterness in her tone at that question.

'You fight and kill in my name – you leave markers to be _sure_ it is so – and yet you worry over the death of a king's army?'

'Not worry. Just wonder. If there were another way to carve the stair to the throne of Jotunheim…perhaps a steeper stair, but one less soaked in blood…would you take it?'

'Do you _know_ of such a way?'

'No. But still I wonder. Perhaps it can't be found because those of us already on the first step cannot see beyond it to where the second will come from. Or perhaps it is too late to change course, and come Ragnarok or the long dark after there is only one way to finish it.' For a moment she seemed to stare out blankly into the middle distance, then abruptly stood. 'I should see to the last of the preparations. The scouts will return soon.'

'Do you always speak in riddles and conjecture?' Loki asked as she started to leave. She glanced back over her shoulder and smiled, again with unexpected sincerity.

'Only when I speak to a trickster.'

That made him chuckle, but the ensuing trek through the dark – and often very wet – caverns that ran beneath the Spine also gave him plenty of time to digest her words. It was far from a pleasant journey, slogging and slithering through the dark and damp with only occasional illumination from flickering torches or _seidr_ glows. It was even less pleasant to ruminate upon the now rather dubious course open to him for destroying Thyrm and gaining his rightful place as king of Jotunheim; assaulting the citadel of Utgard with such a comparatively paltry number in his army.

However willing he was to spend Jotsir blood to gain his throne, he wasn't short-sighted enough not to realise that a throne with no living subjects left was hardly worth having.

So, much as he had done in Laegskulda, Loki walked each day in a different part of the column to speak with the Jotsir. He heard of the uprising in Narvesthal, the long trek south, the failed attack on Utgard, and much besides, from scores of different perspectives. He praised the fighters and compared accounts of slaying Jotun. He conjured floating shapes, birds and moths of glowing light, to amuse the babies and children. He listened intently to the tales of the older ones, and spun stories of glorious battles for the runners and other youngsters. When the quakes came – the rumbling ground of Jotunheim was a constant background annoyance, but underground it became much more of a hazard – he joined with Brynn and Jerrick, using _seidr_ to help hold unstable areas steady or divert falling rocks and ice away from those passing beneath.

'Feels like the sharding realm's falling to bits,' Keila observed one day, after a particularly bad one that had lasted whole minutes.

'The sharding realm _is_ falling to bits,' Brynn pointed out.

'Aye, and it's getting worse.' Jerrick glanced up at the cavern ceiling with a grimace. 'I wish we had a better way to measure it than simply by how many rocks fell down.'

'Feels worse down below anyway,' Arnthor said. 'Barely notice it on the surface, but down here feels like the Spine is cracking in two.'

'It probably is,' Brynn said to him. 'By degrees.'

'So good to hear such unbridled optimism,' Loki commented dryly. 'Perhaps we should talk a little less about the mountains crumbling down onto our heads, before the younger scouts start to take the idea seriously.'

That got a chuckle from Brynn and some smirks from the others, but they did abandon the discussion in favour of focusing on the march instead.

After six long days of trekking underground they finally emerged into what on Jotunheim passed for sunlight, to the rather unexpected sight of Seterfjord appearing to be almost completely peaceful from the distance, save for a few unlikely pillars of smoke. Straddling both sides of the perpetually-frozen Vimur River, the settlement was a low huddle of stone and ice with an ancient and rather ruined bridge of ancient Jotun make joining its two halves. Loki noted that with interest – why build a bridge over a river that never flowed? – and remembered what Skadi had said about the land not always being barren.

'There's a battle in the town, sire!' one of the runners called as she crested the rise back towards the makeshift camp. 'The local temple's been set aflame and most of the walls are melted!'

'Sounds like Calder and Gyda got impatient waiting for us,' Jerrick said, lifting a hand to shield his eyes as he peered down to the river. 'They're attacking the place head-on.'

'Oughtn't we give them a hand?' Keila asked, unshouldering her bow to restring it.

'That seems fair.' Loki glanced back at Arnthor, who promptly looked at Brynn. She inclined her head with no small amount of evident glee.

'By your order, sire.' Then, sticking two fingers into her mouth, she gave an obviously _seidr­_ -enhanced whistle that would have set a pack of wolves to howling in protest. Almost immediately the entire company abandoned what they'd been doing and turned towards the sound.

'We fight for the freedom of the Jotsir of Seterfjord, and for the march into Thrymheim,' Loki called, gesturing towards the town. 'Who will join us?'

Given that they'd spent the last five hours squeezing through rocky crevasses and clambering over icy stone to get out of the Spine, he did not expect quite the level of enthusiasm that greeted him in the roar of accord that followed. Still, by the time they had charged down the foothills to attack the unguarded far side of Seterfjord, slaughtering most of the remaining Jotun in one fell stroke, he was quite happy to see that the northerners were as deadly in massed combat as they had been in their more covert raids.

As the remaining handful of giants were put to the sword, Loki started to look for Calder in the excited throng of people but was arrested sharply as someone collided with his chest and wrapped their arms around him in a tight embrace.

' _Loki_!'

'Ah-' he heard Rangvald's booming laugh and got a glimpse of golden hair as Sibbe hurriedly let go of him, clearly rather embarrassed at her own outburst.

'Sorry. I – I mean, we weren't expecting you back for another few days. Sire.'

'Quite all right,' Loki assured her, trying not to grin. He was fully aware that Keila was trying to catch his eye while making a frankly obscene gesture with her left hand, but decided it would be best to ignore her. 'I don't suppose you've seen Calder in the rush, have you?'

'I think he's at the hall gates, with Gyda. I'll – ah – let them know you're here.' She backed off a few steps and then hastened away, leaving him rather bemused at the impromptu greeting.

Introducing Arnthor and Brynn to Calder and the others who formed something akin to a command council went smoothly enough, although Loki noted with interest that several people grimaced when they were informed of the changed situation in the northern territories.

'We'd hoped to reinforce substantially after taking Narvesthal,' Gyda said, shooting Brynn a look that could generously be called reproachful rather than accusing.

'I'm sorry our freedom didn't fit with your timescales,' Brynn shot back.

'There's no point debating what is done,' Loki put in quickly, before the mild glares the two were exchanging could turn into something more. 'We'll simply have to revise our plans and rely less on weight of numbers when we get to Utgard.'

'We can hardly take the old citadel by stealth,' Calder reminded him. 'They most definitely know we're coming by now. The Jotsir we freed here were mostly in hiding in dark places where the Jotun couldn’t reach them – there are rumours from all over that slaves are being mass slaughtered to prevent them from joining us.'

'Then we haven't any time to waste.' Loki forced his tone to stay level. He'd anticipated the Jotun turning on their still-incarcerated slaves. It had just happened rather sooner than expected…although that in itself was useful information. It meant they were _worried_.

'Aye,' Rangvald agreed. 'Every moment we stand here is one we could be using to make time to the next battle.'

'We'll need to up the pace. Noncombatants will have to remain here – it's as safe a place as any – while the fighters move on.' Loki indicated Svartsjor, the nearest untouched settlement. 'I'd prefer not to divide our forces but if we're to make speed up this side of the Spine to Hrolfsdalr we can't afford to wait for everyone following.'

'Considering we kill every Jotun we come across, I wouldn't be too concerned about a rearguard,' Calder said with a shrug. 'Gyda, let's get everyone ready to move. Oh-' he abruptly seemed to recall the newcomers '-Arnthor, Brynn, I know your people have just had quite a trek but-'

'We'll march,' Arnthor replied stolidly. 'We'll march to Utgard and back, if the king calls for it.'

'Perhaps not today,' Loki said with a small grin, 'But hold that thought.'


	11. All That Matters

'You're concerned.'

Loki glanced over his shoulder but couldn’t stop a small smile at the sight of Skadi leaning on her staff. She'd just climbed the rise he was using as a vantage point to regard Hrolfsdalr and, as always, had guessed his prevailing mood effortlessly.

'The city is well defended,' he said. 'Some of the fortifications are new, or recently improved. They know full well that we're coming, and they've prepared for it.'

'Hmm. No luck in stealth now,' she agreed. 'Nothing but a stand up battle. Bodies against stone, and blood on the ice.'

'A lot of blood,' he muttered grimly.

'You worry for the loss of fighters to take Utgard, or merely their lives?'

'Can it not be both?' He hunkered down and idly ran a handful of snow through his fingers before looking up to regard the high walls of Hrolfsdalr again. 'A king may spend lives like coin, but no purse is bottomless…'

'The exiled princeling I met a year ago would have cared little for the deaths he caused on his way to his rightful throne.'

'You think me weaker for it?'

'Not weaker. More cautious, perhaps. More hesitant to bathe your hands in the blood of others.'

Loki half-smiled at that.

'Too much blood leads to slippery hands, and a looser grip on one's weapon.'

Skadi laughed at him.

'You're quoting Jerrick at me, now? Hardly the time to turn philosopher.'

'He had a good point.' Never mind that the remark from the older _seidrmann_ had been directed rather pointedly towards Keila at the time. 'Philosopher or no, I wish we had a dozen more like him.'

'Not more battle sorcerers?' Skadi asked dryly. 'A dozen more like Brynn would do more against the walls of Hrolfsdalr.'

'A dozen more like that and Keila _and_ Calder would go on a killing spree,' Loki replied, chuckling at the idea. Keila and Brynn clashed tempers regularly, seeming to almost enjoy raging at each other in the manner only strong-willed females could possibly manage, while Calder found the woman infuriating to the point that he'd actually asked Loki to remove her from the leadership council.

_Fresh ideas are one thing, sire, but she'd argue the colour of the snow for the sake of it! Arnthor at least would be less inclined to dispute every single strategy and plan put forward…_

Remembering the most recent altercation – Brynn's typically sardonic remark that Calder's plan to assault Jokulvikra by nightfall was a complete waste of time given the infamous signal fires that surrounded that particular settlement's outer walls – made Loki smile to himself. At least he'd never need to worry about only receiving one point of view from his counsellors.

Skadi's cackle made him glance at her and then stand back up.

'Something amusing?'

'You, boy. I know that smile. Not seen it on you before.' Adjusting her stance, the old woman shifted her staff to lean her cheek against it. 'Not the same as the smile Sibbe sees, I'll warrant.'

That made him chuckle again.

'And what _smile_ do you think Sibbe sees?'

'The same as any other woman who shares your bed but hasn't touched your heart.'

'She's hardly one of a vast number,' Loki pointed out. 'And on plenty of occasions all we in fact do is _sleep_ , given how many townships we've taken recently...'

'Don't be foolish enough to tie yourself to the first woman who looks upon you with favour, boy,' Skadi said, a touch sharply. 'You've stood long enough in another's shadow, picking at cast-offs, that I understand the attraction of one who would _choose you_ -'

'I hardly think this is the time for such frivolous considerations,' he shot back, aware that the reminder of the women of Asgard's preference for Thor had touched a nerve. It was true, of course. Although Sibbe was hardly the only woman of the Jotsir who had eyed the son of Laufey favourably, she was the one who had come to him that night on the edge of Nallinfallur to warm more than his sleeping furs with her presence. And he had welcomed it. More than welcomed it. That Sibbe had come – still did come – to _him_ , and _for_ him, not reluctantly seeking a substitute for the mighty Thor Odinson…it lent an unexpected extra thrill to their coupling which he hadn't anticipated.

'Frivolous?' Skadi echoed. 'A king must have a queen, and heirs.'

'Not until he has a _kingdom_.'

'Then perhaps he should keep his breeches closed until the time comes.'

Loki whirled on her to retort but let his shoulders sag with a sigh when she burst out laughing at his indignant expression. Of course the wretched hag was baiting him, again.

'I'm _so_ pleased you find what goes on in my bedroll so entertaining.'

' _Pah_. You're young and virile-'

'Oh, _thank you_.'

'-and unused to the starry-eyed attentions of the fairer sex. Just mind you don't unwittingly sire an heir before you've even won the throne, eh? Your preferences for a roll in the furs may change once you've a realm to govern and need a queen at your side rather than just a pretty pair of legs around your back.'

'My gratitude, Skadi, for your always wise and _delicate_ advice,' Loki said with a roll of his eyes. 'I can only imagine how poor Agnetta and Bjarke survived it to produce Sten.'

He left her there, still chortling, and made his way down the hillside to the main camp. There'd be time enough for such niceties once Utgard fell…but now he needed to focus on capturing Hrolfsdalr with the least possible loss of Jotsir life.

The nearest sentries on the outer perimeter of the camp nodded politely as he passed them. Opir and Kadlin; he recognised their faces, a mated pair who backed each other up in battle with a ferocity few could match. Their daughter Inga wouldn't be far away, trailing at the heels of her grand-dam Ashild, who had lost her husband to a lucky ice blast from a Jotun in the siege of Mosfell a few short weeks ago.

Loki wondered idly if Odin ever bothered to recall such details about any of his guards, let alone all those who took up arms for Asgard. Or, indeed, if he even knew any of them.

He passed the small huddle of youngsters clustered around Orlyg, practicing the art of shaping with _seidr_ on several large heaps of snow. Brynn and Jerrick were a little way off, talking intently, but both seemed to sense his approach and glanced up with a nod of acknowledgement. Loki returned it, trying not to dwell on the way Brynn's dark eyes followed him until he ducked behind the nearest big cooking fire. He spotted Keila and Rangvald sitting together while the red-headed girl whittled arrows from long giant bones, still scorched from their time in the charnel pits. Halvor and Herleif, inseparable as only twins could be, were teaching some of the greener fighters basic hand to hand tactics, while Gyda moved around monitoring the various drills and practices with a keen and critical eye.

Finally he reached the heart of the camp, the large wall tent of _brunnmigi_ leather and bone that formed something akin to a command centre for the Jotsir forces. Nudging aside the furs that hung over the door opening, Loki found Calder right where he'd left him, poring over the hide-scratched map of Hrolfsdalr's defences along with Arnthor and Bjarke.

Now, had Sibbe been with them long or just recently arrived to wait, knowing that this was the first place Loki would come when he returned?

He dismissed that notion as irrelevant, rather perturbed at himself for even thinking it, and sat down on the large heap of fur that formed his own seat. It was the piled-up skin of a great-bear, an enormous beast the Jotuns called a _bjarndyr_ , which had been a gift from one of the hunting parties during the traversal of Nallinfallur. It was very warm and immensely comfortable to sit on. Not a throne, by any means, but definitely a welcome place to rest his rump in the meantime.

'Any luck?' Bjarke asked him.

'Nothing new.' Loki accepted the cup of steaming hawthorn tea that Sibbe passed him with a nod of gratitude. 'The main weakness still seems to be where the gate mechanism joins to the wall.' The Jotun of Hrolfsdalr had thought to shore up their walls but hadn't thought of the potential shatterpoints where moving mechanisms joined onto stationary ice. The hinges of the town's main gates were embedded deeply into the permafrost that thickly coated the stone walls, but if their growing number of fledgling _seidr­_ -shapers could erode that away…

'Brynn is confident they can bring the gate down,' Arnthor said. 'Orlyg has the youngsters coming on well and a few blasts to the joints once they're weakened-'

'I'd still rather have a backup plan,' Calder retorted, shaking his head. 'An over-reliance on _seidr_ could cost us, as it nearly did at Selvagr-'

'Aye, _nearly_ ,' Arnthor pointed out stubbornly. 'As I recall, it was _the king himself_ cracking the stone to bring the rockslide that buried the Jotun reinforcements before they reached us.'

'A good thing, since the remains of that palisade wouldn't have even slightly slowed a giant's charge had they made it through-'

'I didn't hear you complaining when the shapers melted it from the path of the troops at the time!'

' _Enough_ ,' Loki said, injecting just enough steel into his tone to halt the bicker. 'Debating battle doctrines isn't going to take Hrolfsdalr. For every minute we waste squabbling, dozens more Jotsir are pulled from their hiding places and slain before they can join us.' That produced some genuinely remorseful dropping of gazes, so he went on. 'Calder, if you want some solid backup for Brynn then get Rangvald to give some of the northern _ettins_ heavy spears – if they can crack _brunnmigi_ skulls they ought to make a good dent in the gate joints. Arnthor, I've no problem with the work the shapers do to bring down the fortifications but I'd very much prefer to have some in reserve so we don't spend everything on the main assault. We got lucky last time-' he was still fairly sure that the effect of the miniscule _seidr_ -blasts he'd thrown wildly at the rock face above the stampeding Jotun had been little more than a fluke '-and we can't have _all_ our sorcerers exhausting themselves in the first push…not when we're going to need every body to wear the place down.'

Both men nodded, seeming satisfied with the amended measures.

'I want to move within the hour,' Loki added pointedly. 'Hrolfsdalr isn't going to be won in a day, and the sooner we start, the sooner we'll finish.'

'Best we get off our arses then, sire,' Bjarke said with a cheery grin, levering himself upright with the others to hurry along preparations. 'At least the way Gyda is drilling the fighters they'll have plenty of rage to spend on the field!'

'Calder, please remind Gyda that we've no use for berserkers,' Loki called lightly as a parting shot, which got some chuckles as they left. He stood up and downed the last of his tea.

' _Every body to wear the place down_ ,' Sibbe repeated quietly, taking the now-empty cup from him thoughtfully. 'Isn't there another way? To sneak in, or help the Jotsir inside rise up, or-'

'Those days are over,' Loki said to her. 'We're in a war of attrition now. Every settlement we take is one less the enemy has, every giant we kill is one less that can hold the walls of Utgard, and everyone who still lives to join us is one more pebble against that glacier when the day comes.'

'Pebbles against a glacier.' Her tone turned bitter. 'Is that all anyone is now?'

'Now?' he echoed mildly. 'Everyone knows we'll not win against the Jotun without spending more Jotsir blood.'

'So you'll just spend lives as if they're meaningless?'

'A king can't afford sentiment in a time of war.'

'A _king_ should care for his people!'

'And what would you have me do?' Loki demanded at a shout, rounding on her angrily. 'Sit in anguish over every lost life, and weep and wail, and be so indulgent in grief that the Jotun counter and slaughter us all? Or would you prefer that we move across the realm by inches, spending so long taking each settlement as though it were made of glass that by the time we move onto the next the Jotun have murdered all their slaves at leisure – or worse?'

Sibbe dropped her gaze.

'We will leave many graves behind us on the way to Utgard.' He reached for her hands and sighed when she jerked away from him. 'But how many more will there be if we do _not_ push on as we must?'

'So you're trading hundreds to save thousands.'

'Yes. Exactly.'

She looked up at him with a sad resentment in her eyes.

'And those hundreds who'll die, are they worth less than the thousands who come after? Are they worth the throne of Jotunheim?'

Loki moved away from her and ran his hands through his hair, exasperated.

'Are hundreds sacrificed now worth the freedom of our entire people and all their descendants, and a world to call their own? What-' he whirled back towards her and spread his arms helplessly '-what can I say to that? What can you _possibly_ want me to say?'

'I don't _know_.' She shook her head, biting her lower lip. 'I don't know what the answer is, or if you're right or wrong, or what the alternative could be. I just didn't…I didn't expect you to be so _cold_ about it, that's all.'

'Sometimes a king has to harden his heart to do what he must.'

'Really. Who taught you that? The Allfather?'

She turned and was gone from the tent before he could summon any kind of retort to that unexpectedly low blow. Loki clenched his fists and took several deep breaths, barely containing the urge to strike out violently and blindly with his _seidr_. Why today of all days had he risen to Sibbe's opposition? The speedy and often-bloody nature of the army's passage up Thyrmheim and through Nallinfallur was hardly a new point of disagreement between them since she'd begun sharing his bed. So why only _now_ had it angered him to speak so harshly?

_Your preferences for a roll in the furs may change once you've a realm to govern and need a queen at your side rather than just a pretty pair of legs around your back._

Damn Skadi! The old witch was manipulating him again – making him reconsider things he'd taken for granted or just written off as inconsequential. He'd once prided himself on being a master at swaying the thoughts of others, but that woman had him feeling like a rank amateur. Sibbe's only real fault was being too tender hearted – while she could and did slay Jotun without mercy in the heat of battle, she was one of the few who still wept over the Jotsir dead as the field was cleared, whether she knew them by name or not.

And what was wrong with that? Frigga had always had a gentler nature than Odin, and the balance of their rule made Asgard what it was. It had saved Loki's life, in fact.

So why today had Sibbe's sentiments provoked him to anger?

'Sire.' Gyda's voice roused him from his thoughts. 'We're ready to move.' A pause. 'Is everything all right, sire?'

'Yes.' He shook his head to clear it and forced his attention back to the matter at hand. 'Everything's fine. Let's go.'

Of course the _ettin_ woman was reluctant to leave his side, having deemed herself his self-appointed bodyguard, but Loki had to admit having her armoured bulk nearby wasn't exactly something he objected to on the field of battle.

Keila and the other archers were doing a good job of preventing the Jotun on the barricades from poking their heads up long enough to hurl anything meaningful at the fighters massing near the gate, but most still had the sense to duck behind the slabs of stone or heavy, stiffened hides being used as improvised mantlets. Not for the first time Loki cursed the lack of usable wood on Jotunheim – even the few remaining skeletal trees in Nallinfallur had been too brittle to use for anything other than a little rough kindling.

'The left flank needs to move up to be ready-' he gave a _seidr_ -enhanced whistle to get Halvor's attention and motioned sharply, seeing the nod of acknowledgement as that group began to shift position '-where in hel are the troops going for the gate?'

'I think they're already there, sire,' Gyda said helpfully as an enormous _crack_ split the air. Loki broke into a grin as a shower of ice crystals and stone shards came cascading down from the threshold of Hrolfsdalr, but his glee faded rapidly at the realisation of just how _much_ debris was falling. That wasn't right at all; most of the damned _wall_ was collapsing. Right on top of the siege party.

 _Brynn_.

Blind panic, entirely foreign in its raw chill, had him running full-pelt towards the disintegrating wall of frost and rock, heedless of the icy spears and Jotun _seidr_ -blasts missing him by inches. Gyda was barely keeping pace with him despite her longer legs, calling out in protest. He ignored her, dodging sideways to avoid a man-sized shard skewering him and then diving full length under a crumbling pillar, tucking and rolling while barely adjusting his pace.

To his left a roar of pain accompanied one of the spear-throwing _ettin_ fighters receiving a sharp spike of falling ice to the shoulderblade. The huge man staggered back, raging, then broke the icicle's end off his own flesh and hurled it back in the direction of the foundering wall. A body hit the floor somewhere further on with a low cry of pain, and there were many – far too many – figures lying cold and still on the ground beneath chunks of rubble and icy fragments from the barricade or the gate itself.

'Brynn!' Skidding to a halt in the midst of a swirling mist of snow and dust, Loki cast frantically about for a smaller shape in the chaos. Then he had to duck as an icy blade swung from nowhere and nearly sliced him in half. Jotun were pouring out of the ruined fortifications – scores of them, far more than Hrolfsdalr ought to hold – and swinging their icy blades towards the shocked Jotsir and _ettin_ fighters who were only just recovering their wits from the unexpected collapse.

'Sire, you shouldn't be here!' Gyda materialised beside him in the white fog, blocking a blow from a Jotun that would have taken his head off and countering with a vicious thrust from her spear that sent the giant toppling backwards with dark blood spurting from its chest. 'Please, come with me!'

'No.' Loki hurled a _seidr_ missile towards another Jotun and followed it with several quick slashes from his dagger, hamstringing the creature and finishing it with a stab to the head as it fell. 'I have to find Brynn. She's here somewhere.' Knowing the diminutive sorcerer, right in the middle of it…but that meant she could well have been crushed the moment the gate came down.

Dodging away but correcting the lunge with his blade as the giant that had been about to strike at him was taken down by an arrow to its left eye, he scrambled forward half-blindly until his feet met a harder surface. The remains of the gate resembled a shattered mirror, fragments of ice and stone still forming the loose shape of it where they'd fallen, although the whole was half buried under mountains of dislodged frost and drifts of newly-disturbed snow from the ground beneath.

'Watch out!'

Loki whirled as a flash of blue _seidr_ shot past his shoulder, sending another Jotun stumbling back with a bellow of pain, and felt the strange bliss of pure relief pour through him.

'Brynn!' She was covered in snow and ice crystals, bleeding heavily from several places including a deep gash on one cheek, and had an impressive bruise forming on her forehead, but she was upright and moving – albeit rather unsteadily – towards him. He closed the distance quickly and grabbed her shoulders, pushing her hair back to inspect the laceration.

'Now's hardly the time to turn healer, Loki,' she said, voice cracking with evident pain and weariness but barely bereft of its usual wry tone. 'We need to fall back. The gate was braced – barely held together – they _wanted_ it to fall so they could rush us-'

'A trap,' he agreed. 'Come on, we need to get out of this mess.'

He was about to stoop to pick her up, or at least to lend her support on her more obviously-injured side, when Gyda suddenly hurled herself in front of him and raised her shield. The blow that landed on it actually skidded the big _ettin_ back several steps.

'Sire, _go_!' she called, but then the second swing of the icy bludgeon attached to the arm of the giant looming over them both impacted and crumpled her shield like paper. Gyda tossed it aside and thrust her sword up to block the next strike, but the power of it was too much and sent her, staggering, down onto her knees. A frost missile came from nowhere and slammed into her back, toppling her completely, and the Jotun in front of her drove its blade downwards even as she tried to raise hers again to counter.

Bright crimson blossomed across Gyda's chest as the sword punched through armour and flesh and bone. She gave a grunt, stumbled, somehow turned her head towards Loki with an almost beseeching expression, and then died.

Dazed and beyond stunned at the _ettin_ woman's unquestioning sacrifice, Loki could only gape for a long moment as she collapsed and went still. Rage – righteous, furious wrath – unexpectedly filled him, and he started forward with a yell of pure anger. _Seidr_ blasts flew from his hands but the giant barely seemed to notice them, and actually laughed at him as he drew his dagger.

'Foolish mongrel.'

The swing of the ice sword was hardly unexpected but the sheer power behind it knocked the wind clear out of Loki and sent him reeling. He managed to roll with it and scrambled to his feet just in time to dodge the second blow, but didn't foresee the Jotun punching out with its other hand at the same instant. The chill fist, like frozen rock, impacted the centre of his torso with a dull _crack_ , making brutal spikes of pain blossom through his chest, and sent him rocketing backwards to crash heavily into the remains of a pillar.

There was another horrible _crack_ and most of the pain seemed to stop as though a switch had been flipped. It was replaced, however, by a horrible seeping deadness that made his legs give way and arms go slack, his own limbs suddenly unwilling – or unable – to respond to his commands.

He vaguely registered shouting and the clash of weapons about him, the flashes of _seidr_ -blasts across his rapidly-dimming vision. A woman was calling his name frantically and then he was being hefted up, limp as a rag doll.

'Get Loki out of here!' he heard someone shout. 'He's all that matters!'

 _All that matters_? The thought seemed incongruous and oddly amusing. _The lesser brother of Thor, failed scourge of Midgard, exiled prince of the Realm Eternal, unwanted would-be-king…_

A cry went up in the chaos around him.

'Fall back! Fall back to the Spine!'

Time seemed to slow and fragment, his eyes blurry and other senses clouded by that all-pervading numbness that had taken hold of his body so rapidly. He faintly felt movement, a change of light to dark, a strange feeling of warmth, then a stillness that seemed irrevocable in its finality took full hold of his mind and pulled him, unresisting, into its beckoning blackness.


	12. Rage And Seidr

… _Know your place, brother!_

_…I thought we could unite our kingdoms one day…_

_…there are always men like you_ …

 _…who controls the would-be king_?

_…you lack conviction…_

… _you ARE the one…_

… _finally, you anger for more than yourself…_

_…neither broken nor tamed…_

_…we left a trail of graves…_

_…bodies against stone…_

_…you've stood long enough in another's shadow…_

' _Wake up, Loki_.'

The murmur seemed to come from a million miles away, but it broke through the shroud over his mind like a bright shaft of sunlight into a darkened hall. Although the tone was soft, almost pleading, Loki found himself striving to obey it like a command.

He felt his limbs again – everything painful, a _bone_ -deep ache across his entire body – and managed to move an arm, reaching blindly up towards the voice. A face, cool to the touch, and long, loose hair that his clumsy fingers grasped and fumbled at…then it was gone. Confused, hurting, bewildered, he fought to open his eyes. A short eternity seemed to pass before a dimly-lit cavern ceiling appeared above him.

'Loki?'

It took tangible effort to turn his head towards the voice.

'Sibbe?'

'Oh, thank the ice.' She hastened to his side and fussed around, helping him to sit up – which he had to do by degrees, the pain was so persistent – so he could lean against the furs pillowed on the wall behind. 'Everyone will be so relieved – we thought maybe even after-'

'It was Thrym.' Calder spoke from the nearby doorway. 'The war chief, and self-proclaimed king of Jotunheim. He had scores of giants hidden away in Hrolfsdalr, purposefully weakened the gate posts to lure us in…'

Trying in vain not to wince as he resettled himself, Loki regarded the man carefully as he approached the foot of the makeshift cot. Clearly the rest of the battle had _not_ gone well.

'How many did we lose?' he asked.

'Hundreds of fighters,' Calder replied bleakly. 'And more in the fallback and rout – they slaughtered most of those left in Seterfjord. Even the ones who had followed the main force took heavy losses.'

Loki closed his eyes, an unexpected surge of anguish gripping him.

'We would have lost more,' Calder added, dropping his gaze to the floor, 'But Brynn and Arnthor…they insisted we break for the Spine, brought us to the caves here. The Jotun couldn't – or perhaps just wouldn't – follow us.'

'Brynn's alive?' For some reason that lessened the icy grip on Loki's heart a little, and he looked up anxiously for confirmation.

'Aye. So is Jerrick, and Orlyg, and Rangvald and Keila. Halvor made it out but-' Calder sighed sadly '-but Herleif didn't. And Gyda-'

'Gyda died defending her king,' Sibbe said, but he did not miss the hint of bitterness in her tone.

'Gyda died a fool, defending a fool,' Loki muttered, the chill settling into his chest again. 'She was worth ten of me in battle. None of them should be dead…I should have seen it, the _obviousness_ of it, the way the gates were-'

'Sire,' Calder said, a trifle pained, 'There's something else you need to know. The blows Thyrm gave you…they nearly killed you. Broke most of your bones, including your back-'

'What?' Loki exclaimed. Such comprehensive injuries should have been fatal, even for a Jotsir – even for an Asgardian! 'How am I-'

'Skadi,' Sibbe said brokenly. 'She did…something. Some old healing _seidr_ , even Jerrick wasn't sure how...it saved you. But it – she –' she stopped and looked away, putting a hand to her mouth.

'She's dying, sire,' Calder said. 'We're not sure how much longer she has.'

Loki stared at him blankly for a moment, the entire world seeming to fall away to be replaced by a dull roar in his ears. _Dying_. Skadi couldn't die. Not _now_.

'I have to see her-' he started to struggle up, batting away Sibbe when she tried to stop him from moving '-where is she?'

Calder put a hand on Sibbe's shoulder and pulled her back, gently but firmly, before helping Loki to his feet and inserting himself under his right arm to support him.

'This way, sire.'

It was fortunately only a few dozen stumbling, agonising paces to an adjacent cavern. Loki leaned heavily on the rough wall and, gritting his teeth against the all-pervading ache in his bones, willed himself upright to walk the last few steps. Skadi was laying on her back an improvised pallet, swathed in multiple layers of furs. Agnetta sat by her right shoulder, face twisted in understandable anguish as she held one of her mother's hands in hers.

'How-' Loki managed to get to her side and braced himself against the stone '-how is she?'

'Not dead yet, you insolent boy,' Skadi said, opening her eyes. They were clouded and dulled, not the piercing ice-blue he remembered, but locked his gaze with hers just as effortlessly. 'Give us a moment, daughter.'

'Yes, mother.' Agnetta kissed the old woman's forehead and then rose, helping Loki to sit on the stool she'd vacated before stepping out of the cavern.

'So,' Skadi said wryly, 'You're looking better. And on your feet again.'

Loki reached out for her hand. It felt withered and cold in a way that was nothing to do with either her age or the normal chill of Jotsir blood. Somehow it seemed more fragile, like she was turning half into paper, when he took it in both of his.

'Why?' he asked finally, brokenly. Gyda had been bad enough, foolish and naïve to get herself killed in place of her would-be king in the heat of battle. But this – to willingly undertake a slow death, to sacrifice without any hope or thought of reward – it was entirely beyond his comprehension. Not for _him_. Not for the unwanted bastard of Laufey.

'I promised your mother that you would live, child,' Skadi said gently. 'Once I knew that Odin had not made a liar of me, how could I abandon my vow?'

He dropped his head and shook it.

'The Jotsir need you.'

'The Jotsir need their king.'

' _I don't know how to be a king_!' he cried, feeling tears dampen his cheeks. 'I can't lead armies to victory. I led ours to _slaughter_ at Hrolfsdalr. Every plan I make, every scheme I try…it always fails. _I_ always fail. On Asgard, on Midgard, and now here-'

'Then find another way.' Her frail fingers tightened around his. 'You're not the only one making it up as you go along, Loki. And there is more – _far_ more – to being a king than merely leading armies.'

'But I don't know _how_.' His voice dropped and broke. 'What if I fail?'

'Not even kings should stand entirely alone, child. Those that try _will_ fail. Do not be one of them.'

'I don't-' he swallowed, choking back an unexpectedly potent wave of distress '-I don't know how to not be alone.'

Skadi gave him a small smile, weary and kindly but not devoid of her usual impish challenge.

'Then, little princeling, it is time to _learn_.'

Her grip on him went slack and her eyes closed.

'Skadi?' Wiping hastily at his eyes, Loki leaned over her in alarm. 'Skadi? Oh, no – _Agnetta_!'

When the younger woman hurried back into the room he managed to get to his feet and stumble back a few steps, aghast at the idea that he might have stolen her mother's last few moments of life for himself. Glancing at the cavern entrance, he saw Bjarke standing there with his hands on Sten's shoulders, both of their faces solemn but oddly calm.

'Mother?' Agnetta gave Skadi a very light shake.

'Oh, calm yourself, girl,' Skadi muttered without opening her eyes. 'Such a fuss! Anyone would think you'd all never seen an old woman go to sleep before. Where is my grandson?'

'He is here, mother.' Agnetta held out a hand to beckon Sten into the room. Bjarke came with him but stood back with Loki against the wall. 'We're all here.'

'All my family,' Skadi said dimly, her eyes fluttering briefly open as if to verify the sight. 'Kin by blood and by choice.'

'Yes, mother,' Agnetta smiled although tears were pouring down her face.

'We are _all_ here, good mother,' Bjarke added.

'Good. Good.' Skadi seemed to relax back into the makeshift pillow of furs beneath her head. 'All here.' Her eyes closed again. 'All…here.' She sighed, as if in satisfaction, and then went still. The gentle rise and fall of her chest ceased. Slowly, like spilled water seeping across stone, a cerulean tint crept over her skin, and finally faded to a dull grey.

'Mother…' Agnetta reached out and then snatched her hand back as though burned. ' _Mother_!'

Bjarke gently pulled her to her feet and back from the bedside, pressing a kiss to her cheek. She gave a little cry and half-fell against him, weeping in complete abandon. Sten turned his head into her skirts with a low sob, shaking with a child's fright of little-understood grief.

Loki's feet refused to move, to carry him away from the chamber and its miasma of loss. Confused, entirely at sea, something made him gingerly touch Agnetta's shoulder. She turned to clutch at him and suddenly he was pulled much closer, hugging her tightly and burying his face into her golden hair. One of Bjarke's hands gripped his shoulder, a firm permission to remain, and even Sten reached out to snag the bottom of Loki's tunic with a surprisingly tight grip in his young fingers.

So the four of them wept, entangled together in a knot of grief, and even in the midst of it Loki found himself thinking, in wonder, on how there was no trace of reproach in Agnetta's embrace of him even though her own mother had died to give him life.

It was not the first time the thought crossed his mind. As they lifted Skadi's body carefully from the cot to carry her to the pyre that would form her final bed, nobody questioned or even seemed to think anything at all of him taking a corner of the litter alongside Bjarke. When Jerrick coaxed a lick of red flame from a small torch of precious new wood, Agnetta all but dragged Loki's hand to join with hers so they could light the fire together. Then, as Sten was about to be taken back into the caves to his bedroll, the somnolent boy mumbled a sleepy _good night_ that made Loki's already-aching heart sting all the more.

He slept poorly, from more than the lingering pain in his back, and rose a little before dawn to venture out of the caves. The maze of snowy foothills nearby hardly made for an inspiring view, but after the almost-stifling heat of the caverns Loki found himself strangely craving the fresher, icy air. He clambered onto a convenient rise – after a couple of false starts, thanks to the twinges in his ribs – and sat, safely obscured from all but the sharpest eyes of hunting giants, to watch the dim Jotunheim sunrise marginally lighten the cloud-covered sky.

'Poor plan for an injured king to go rock climbing,' a familiar voice said from below. 'Let alone without telling anyone where he's gone.'

'Poor plans seem to be all I have,' Loki replied mirthlessly, but he did glance sideways at Brynn as she climbed up to perch beside him. Her dark hair, normally so tightly confined to its intricate braids, hung loose down her shoulders and back.

 _Wake up, Loki_.

That had been her, he realised suddenly. Not Sibbe. When he'd fumbled out blindly in his pain-addled stupor it was Brynn he'd felt leaning over him, pleading for him to rouse. Sibbe's voice was different, and she kept her hair cropped shorter around her chin, so it _couldn't_ have been her.

The notion of Brynn watching over him provoked an unexpected feeling of warmth. He looked at her again, properly this time, but her gaze was settled on the horizon.

'I'm sorry about Skadi,' she murmured. 'She…seemed like a good person.'

'She was,' he replied. 'More than _good_. She was…' then he had to trail off. Mere words didn't seem adequate to explain the role Skadi had played in his life, even before he'd known her. 'She knew my mother,' he added, feeling that something else was needed by way of explanation.

Brynn just nodded, seeming to understand.

'Your mother was Jotsir.'

'Yes.' Then the comment registered properly and he frowned. 'Yours was not?'

'My mother was Jotun.' A small half-smile, somewhat scornful. 'She never forgave me for being born a half breed. Never forgave my father for siring one, either. He was _raektandur_ in Narvesthal. The giantesses liked his dark eyes, for some reason, and there were old tales of how a _seidrmann_ 's seed was said to be lucky. Of course once my mother realised what she'd birthed, she threw us both back to the slave pits, and that was that.'

Loki stared at her for a long moment.

'How did you survive?'

'My father used to say he raised me on rage and _seidr_ ,' Brynn replied dryly. 'But I suspect the women who'd recently birthed their own in the pens played something of a role as well. I can't remember any one of them, though…just a blur of faces. Life expectancy for a Jotsir mother in Narvesthal was hardly high.'

Loki chewed at his lower lip, feeling a strange spasm of guilt. However much he riled at Odin for stealing him from Skadi as a babe, and for all his failings of affection, the Allfather had given him an upbringing that was so far divorced from the reality of any other Jotsir childhood as to seem like some fever dream. He'd never been starved, or left to sicken, or abandoned in the cold to cry out into the dark. He'd had a mother who had adored him and indulged his thirst for knowledge without qualm, and a brother who, for all his oafish pride, had outright doted on his younger sibling. They'd had playmates. They'd raced, wrestled, tussled, outright fought, stampeded around the great halls like a horde of bilgesnipe. There was little of his childhood that remembered anything but sunshine, and laughter, and the warmth of belonging, despite even then being firmly convinced of his place as the _lesser_ son.

Thinking of his own resentment, the _pettiness_ of his rage at being passed over as the ruler of Asgard, in comparison to how his blood-kin had suffered – still did suffer – on Jotunheim…it was enough to turn his stomach. As though his torture at the hands of the creatures in the outer worlds somehow justified his anger, made his plight equal to theirs! _What right do I have to their trust_?

Folding his arms over his knees, Loki buried his face in them. He'd stolen the dominion of Asgard through trickery and failed to keep it. He'd tried to take Midgard by force and been defeated, resoundingly, by a mere handful of heroes who had been outnumbered hundreds to one. Now he was about to lead the remnants of his own species into oblivion, fighting a war they could never really hope to win, all for the sake of his pride, and his thirst for a throne of his own.

Further thoughts of self-recrimination were shattered as a quake set the world rumbling. Some rubble bounced down the mountainside and a loud _crack_ from a little way off forewarned the collapse of several huge pillars of icy rock, setting off tremors of their own. It took several long minutes before the cold ground finally settled to stillness again. Loki looked up, glancing back towards the entrance to the caves; the sounds of industry drifting out abruptly intensified as the many Jotsir inside hastened to check for injuries and compromised internal structures.

'They're getting worse,' Brynn observed. 'We'll be lucky not to have a major cave-in at this rate.'

Loki scowled, as much at his own thoughts as for the remark.

'My doing. If I'd not unleashed the Bifrost on Utgard…'

'There were quakes long before that,' she said, looking at him with an expression of mild surprise. 'As long as I've been alive, certainly. I remember Arnthor saying his grandfather – a pure Aesir – told him stories from before the forests died off, when the land was still and the sea wasn't…'

Loki stared at her, comprehension hitting him like a thunderclap.

'How long?' he demanded, rounding on her. Grabbing her arm, he actually gave her a little shake in urgency. ' _When_ _did they start_?'

'I don't know.' She frowned at his insistence. 'Arnthor might, or Jerrick. Two generations at least, although of course Jotsir don't exactly live out the full potential length of their lives as slaves…be careful!' This last was as he scrambled to his feet and started back down towards the cavern entrance with rather more haste than caution. He stumbled heavily over a patch of uneven stone that had not been there on his way up, and might have toppled if Brynn had not caught his arm to steady him.

'Jerrick's just inside with Orlyg,' she said to him. 'Neither of them are going anywhere far, so there hardly seems any reason to kill yourself for speed. What's so urgent it could re-break your bones?'

'The quakes. I know what's causing them.' Loki forced himself upright and felt a ghost of a grin flash across his face. 'I know what we have to do.'


	13. I Can Be More

'You want…to go back to Asgard,' Calder repeated slowly, 'And steal a powerful artefact from the vault, right underneath Odin's nose?'

'We barely got in – never mind _out_ – the first time, and that were without lugging some sharding great chest,' Keila exclaimed.

'Casket,' Brynn corrected her, almost absentmindedly.

'It's the only way to save the realm,' Loki said firmly. 'Ever since Laufey confined the natural ambient _seidr_ of Jotunheim in an effort to conquer Midgard, this world has been in decline. Keeping the power of the ice away from the land has just hastened its decay. But if we can get the casket out of Asgard and bring it back here, where the power _belongs_ …'

'But the only way to release the energies of the casket would be to return it to the temple of Utgard where it was created,' Jerrick put in, 'And even then, the released power would bend only to the will of the-' then he stopped and stared at Loki in astonished realisation '-rightful king of Jotunheim.'

'Exactly. _Exactly_.' Loki sighed, frustrated and angry with himself for not seeing the solution, which now seemed so painfully obvious, any sooner. 'Trying to contest with the Jotun by force of arms was never going to work. Not once Thyrm's rage woke and the giants began to retaliate in earnest.'

'We can get into Asgard easily enough,' Calder said, stroking his chin thoughtfully. 'There's the mere, and it isn't too hard a hike into the city. But getting out again-'

'I won't use the mere to return,' Loki said. 'I'll use the Bifrost.'

'The _Bifrost_?' Bjarke echoed in astonishment.

'The Bifrost bridge to Jotunheim lands not far from the centre of Utgard.' He indicated on the more detailed layout map that Arnthor and Brynn had sketched out of the old fortress-capital. 'Minutes away from the temple, rather than weeks.'

'If you use the bridge to appear there they'll see you coming and you'll be obliterated the moment you land,' Brynn said grimly. 'Thyrm has patrols and sentries all over the floes there.'

'They'll assume the bridge is being used by an Asgardian, though,' Loki pointed out. 'Which should give me enough time to cloak myself and sneak past. They'll be wary of attacking if-'

'I'd rather there was a safer way to get to there,' Calder murmured, stroking his chin thoughtfully. 'Could the Bifrost's course not be…adjusted? To land you right outside the doors, or even _in_ the temple itself?'

'Only by the hand of Odin.'

'But that still leaves you essentially dropped in the middle of Utgard to get killed,' Bjarke said. 'Seems like a fool's errand, even with the best luck in all the realms.'

'We should attack Utgard,' Halvor said quietly.

Everyone stared at him.

'We can't possibly take the city.' Calder shook his head. 'To even try would be…suicidal.'

'No more so than returning to Asgard for the casket.' The younger man set his jaw and glanced around from each face to the next. 'My brother died at Hrolfsdar and I'll be damned before I let that be for nothing.'

'He's right.' Keila slammed a first on the stone table. 'So what if we can't take the place? If we attack then Thyrm's lot are going to be too busy fighting us to worry about the sharding Bifrost, let alone one Jotsir running about.'

'Aye.' Rangvald clapped her on the shoulder with a grin. 'We go to battle, make the great grandmother of all distractions! Catch a couple of _brunnmigi_ , loose them at the walls, smash everything in sight and kill every Jotun we see. Make plenty of noise, get the giants coming for us to clear the way for the casket to get to the temple.'

'That's _insane_ ,' Sibbe exclaimed. 'So many will die…and what if the casket can't even _be_ stolen back from Asgard? It would all be for nothing!'

'Just as dead if the world falls to bits, and just as pointlessly,' Arnthor said with a shrug. 'I know I'd gladly test my blade against Utgard again if it'll buy the time to save the realm, and I won't be the only one.'

Loki chewed at his lower lip, avoiding Sibbe's imploring stare. The idea of a feint attack on Utgard to distract Thrym's defence was a very good one, and he hated that Halvor had brought it up.

'Sire?' Calder prompted. 'Arnthor's right, but so is Sibbe. The butcher's bill will be high.'

_If there were another way to carve the stair to the throne of Jotunheim…perhaps a steeper stair, but one less soaked in blood…_

Loki straightened, ignoring the lingering dull ache in his back.

'Ask for volunteers. Make it clear what they're doing, and the likely cost. Everyone else should remain here, concealed, or perhaps try to return to Laegskulda.'

'Whittling to volunteers will lessen our numbers and everyone's chances,' Brynn said. 'Everyone here knows what they signed up for.'

'They signed up for a war, not a slaughter.' Loki said, cutting off the beginnings of Sibbe's angry protest in the other woman's direction. 'Volunteers only.'

'You should ask them, sire,' Jerrick put in. 'All those who are left.'

'Aye,' Halvor agreed. 'Ought to hear it from the king.'

'I'm no king,' Loki muttered.

'You're _our_ king,' Orlyg said firmly, and flashed a dry grin. 'Only one we've got, so try _not_ to get yourself killed flitting about Asgard, eh?'

After a little more discussion about logistics and timing, with additional consultation of various maps, they finally stepped out of the smaller side room into the main cave. Loki flicked his gaze around to get a head count of those remaining after the massacre at Hrolfsdar, and fought not to grimace when the tally came to a mere few hundred all told. After a moment someone seemed to register that he was there, standing over them. A hush gradually spread throughout the space, which could so easily have accommodated four or five times the number of bodies currently sheltering in it.

Slowly, amazed that his voice did not falter, Loki explained the plan to them. There were frowns, mutters, shrugs, frightened whispers. This wasn't what they'd expected, or wanted. Who wanted a leader – let alone a king – who offered no solace in such stark truths?

'…I could speak to you of glory and honour in battle, but there will be none,' he said, seeing many of those carrying arms exchange puzzled glances. 'This is all that we have left now…bodies against stone, and blood on the ice.'

Quite a few faces hardened. There were even some nods, and clear signs of agreement. It would be easy – _too easy_ – to whip them into a frenzy, he thought. To turn the deaths at Hrolfsdar into a wrong to be avenged, a flame to ignite the rage of this lessened army and turn it like wildfire onto the gates of Utgard.

 _Pebbles against a glacier_.

No, he realised. Perhaps a year ago he would have seen only the opportunity here, and cared nothing for the aftermath, but these were as good as all that remained of _his people_. He owed them better than a silvered tongue laced with poisoned honey.

'I can't promise you triumph,' he said. 'Or victory, or even survival. All I can promise you is that as long as there is any breath left in my body _I will not stop_ until the casket is returned to Jotunheim, where it belongs.' Taking a short breath, he tried to think of something else to say, but couldn't.

'All those willing to take up arms and storm Utgard to divert Thyrm's forces, make your way to the rear of the cavern by the springs,' Arnthor called out, blessedly ending the rather awkward silence that had ensued. 'We'll not be moving out for a few days, so take your time to decide. Everyone else…I suggest you hunker down here, or try for the lowlands if you're able.'

Loki turned and stepped back into the higher cave complex, feeling the astonished and vaguely accusatory stares of the Jotsir like flames against his back. He couldn't bring himself to glance back even briefly to see who was moving towards the bubbling pools, sure that the number would simultaneously be far too many and yet nowhere near enough.

He spoke briefly with Jerrick, then tracked down Orlyg for a similar conversation, before making his way back to the cot that had so nearly been his deathbed. Shedding the mess of furs he'd been wrapped in, he redressed in his leathers and took the opportunity to get a better measure of his range of movement. Now he'd been on his feet and moving about already a lot of that horrible lethargy had already left him, the lingering stiffness and aches and pains aside. So there was no real reason – or excuse – to delay the expedition to Asgard.

'If you go alone into the Allfather's house you'll wind up back in his dungeons.'

Loki shrugged his surcoat on and adjusted the collar before turning to regard Brynn, leaning somewhat indolently in the makeshift doorway.

'I'm not going alone. Jerrick and Orlyg are coming with me.'

Her eyes flashed as she straightened.

'Jerrick I understand. But Orlyg? You'll need battle _seidr_ to get from the vaults to the Bifrost and past the gate keeper. To say nothing of passing through battle-raging Utgard to the temple.'

'Jerrick is capable enough at battle magic, and Orlyg's glamours will serve us for stealth.' Loki tried to sound mild and unconcerned.

'Your glamour is more than sufficient to conceal three people and I'm a much better battle sorcerer than Jerrick. Orlyg's the stronger shaper, anyway. His skills will be more use in Utgard, even if Rangvald does somehow contrive to chain up some _brunnmigi_. What about when you're fighting through einherjar to reach the bridge? What good will Orlyg be then?'

'This isn't up for debate,' he said firmly, trying to inject a little steel into his voice. A ripple ran along her jaw as she set it, folding her arms obstinately.

'Fine. Then I'll see you in Utgard, if you make it. Which you likely won't, without my help.'

'I don't want you in Utgard.' The words escaped before Loki could censor them.

'What?' Brynn turned back and actually took a step towards him.

'I want you to stay here. Or perhaps go south to Laegskulda, where it'll be safer.' He dropped his gaze, ashamed of the admission even as he uttered it.

'And do _what_?' she snapped. 'Sit and pray, and weep and wail, and wring my hands?' Her tone hardened. 'I think you have me confused with Sibbe, _sire_.'

Something in Loki snapped. He whirled and grabbed at her arms, giving her a small shake.

'I need you _safe_ , Brynn! The thought of losing you – when the gate at Hrolfsdar fell-' he paused and closed his eyes, trying to assemble the storm of his thoughts into something more coherent '-I can't steal the casket from Odin and fight through Utgard while I'm worrying about you-'

The slap was entirely unexpected and sent him stumbling back a step, more from shock than the force of the blow. He let go of her in sheer surprise, his cheek stinging.

'Asgard may be full of fainting maidens and starry-eyed wenches but do not mistake a battle-witch of Jotunheim for one of them,' Brynn snarled. 'If all you want is a doe-eyed damsel with gentle hands and a tender heart to love, you'll _never_ be lord of this realm in anything but name, _son of Laufey_.'

'I _don't love Sibbe_!' Loki said sharply, aware his voice had risen to a shout but not really caring in that instant. 'And she doesn't love me! She loves a _story_ …an _ideal_ that doesn't exist, that never _did_!' He felt a familiar old bitterness rise up alongside the realisation and lowered his tone. 'Sibbe has no idea what I've done, who I am. I may as well be a shadow to her. A shadow would have more substance. But I-' he had to stop and swallow hard '-I _can be more_. I know that now. Maybe not a leader, not a king, but I _can_ _save Jotunheim_.'

Brynn looked at him for a long moment and then her face visibly softened.

'I believe you.' Then, astonishing him once more, she lay her palm over the cheek she'd just slapped and kissed him lightly on the mouth. 'But you're still going to need my help. I'll tell Orlyg.'

She was gone before Loki could formulate any words again, let alone a coherent response or retort to that matter-of-fact assertion. He gingerly touched his fingertips to his own lips, heart hammering and mind awhirl. _Is this…is this what love feels like_? No wonder his idiot brother had taken leave of all his senses over that human woman, whatever-her-name-had-been.

Taking a deep breath, he put on his vambraces and adjusted the straps. Time enough to fret over such matters when the world wasn't very literally collapsing into rubble around them. For now, king or prince or mere exile, he had a very important job to do. Jotunheim needed to be made whole again, the old power restored to its bones, before the trivial quibble of its rule could be decided.

Straightening, sliding his dagger home into the sheath at his hip, Loki lifted his head with a new resolution. Whatever else might happen, he could and would see to it that the realm survived.

Skadi had the right of it.


	14. To Restore A Realm

'…remember not to start for Utgard until at least the fourth day. It'll take us that long to get to Asgard through the mere and we'll still have to get into the city to move on the vault. We don't have the numbers for anything like a protracted battle, let alone a siege, so if the timing is off-'

'I know, sire.' Calder smiled tolerantly. 'We won't attack until the seventh day.'

'Of course.' Loki pinched at the bridge of his nose. 'Sorry. I'm just keenly aware of the cost if this all goes wrong.'

'The cost will hardly be nothing if everything goes _right_ ,' Arnthor pointed out with his typical gallows humour, but offered a tight grin. 'We'll do our part, sire. Focus on doing yours.'

There didn't seem to be much more to say after that. Much as Loki wanted to run through everything just one more time before setting off, further repetition would only result in more frustration and delay rather than security. He settled for solemn nods of good luck to those he passed on the way to the cavern entrance, where Jerrick and Brynn were waiting with the horses.

They spoke little for the duration of the journey to the mere, even when camping down for the night in the snug triangle formed by their mounts. Of course conversation was hardly easy or practical anyway, but more than that Loki found himself unexpectedly – and worryingly – tongue tied when the rare opportunity arose. It was thus a rather awkwardly silent few days of hard riding until they reached the foot of Gonguleid, the mountain whose peak housed the watery hidden pathway that led to the Realm Eternal.

They dismounted the horses but stripped off all the saddles and tacking before turning them loose, burying the trappings deeply in the snow. The beasts would do well enough by themselves; they certainly wouldn't make the trek up the mountainside.

Loki found himself pausing at the threshold of the cavern to glance back. Distant outlines of jagged glaciers were barely visible in the faltering light of Jotenheim's noon, and snow devils of wind and frost danced across the plain below. It was cold, undeniably desolate, but he found himself strangely reluctant to leave it.

A dim rumbling sensation and the sight of a substantial avalanche making its way down a hillside nearby made him grimace, but was also a timely reminder of the whole point of the current enterprise. Taking a last breath of the clean, chill air, he went inside.

'…feel the temperature change, then swim up as fast as you can.' Jerrick was instructing Brynn on how to traverse the mere. 'It's a lot warmer the other side. Like Blahellar, almost, but without the humidity at least.'

'Sounds positively tropical,' she said dryly, glancing at Loki when he came in. 'Ready?'

'As I'll ever be.'

'I'll go first,' Jerrick offered. 'See you on the other side.'

The older _seidrmann_ stepped into the pool without further comment and was gone. Brynn stepped up to the edge and gave the depths a speculative look for a long moment.

'Well, this should be delightful.'

'Take a _very_ deep breath,' Loki advised. 'Unless…you want to stay?' He couldn't deny that the idea had appeal. 'It's isolated enough, and the Jotun don't seem to – are you going to slap me again?'

'I'm thinking about it,' she admitted with a small grin that he couldn't help but echo.

'Perhaps save your energy for Asgard? We'll need it to get to the Bifrost.'

'True enough. Consider yourself reprieved, then.'

As she stepped up to the edge of the pool Loki reached out and caught her elbow before he could stop himself.

'Brynn, if something happens – if one of us doesn’t make it back-'

'No,' she said, and actually touched a finger to his lips to cut him off. 'This isn't the time. Now we need nothing but anger for the battle ahead. Remember that.'

He lifted both hands to clasp hers.

'There's no anger in what I feel for you.'

'Nor I for you.' Brynn smiled again and he felt his heart soar at it. 'But that isn't what we need – what _Jotunheim_ needs – right now. To retrieve the casket, to get it to the temple-'

'-and to survive,' he finished. 'I know. But after that – _whatever_ comes after that-'

'Later.' Her smile turned wry again, but the word still seemed as much a promise as a taunt.

'Later,' he agreed.

She let go of him and stepped into the pool without further comment. Loki took a deep breath, swept his gaze around the icy cavern one last time, and then followed her.

*

'This wretched place is too sharding _warm_.'

'Complaining will hardly make it less so.' Jerrick's usually-patient tone came out distinctly exasperated now.

'It still makes me feel better-' Brynn cut herself off mid-grouse when Loki raised a warning hand. The three of them crouched down against the ravine as a skiff drifted slowly overhead.

'Patrol boat,' Loki said after a moment of taking its measure. 'Einherjar. They don't normally come this far out on routine.' Damn. That meant heightened security, either because of his escape – although that had been well over a year ago now, even as Asgard measured time – or some other trouble afoot in the Realm Eternal. They'd already had a few hard days and nights of walking but were still several hours away from the outskirts of the city proper.

'Could be an ideal way in,' Jerrick suggested. 'Three known faces, perhaps an engine malfunction or some such thing…'

' _If_ we can get them down here without them also sending an alert back to the garrison.'

'The mighty protectors of the Realm Eternal shouldn't be too hard to fool.' Brynn abruptly stood up and loosened her leathers, retying her cloak so it formed more of a makeshift skirt.

'Don't sound _too_ shrill,' Loki said dryly, seeing what she was about. 'The women of Asgard aren't battle witches but they're hardly all mewling wenches either.'

'I'm sure I'll manage.' Pulling her long tresses out of their braids for an appropriately wind-swept appearance, she ducked out of the ravine and started waving her arms. 'Hallo! Someone! Help!'

'You really think they'll be _that_ stupid?' Jerrick asked in a low voice. Loki grinned.

'Einherjar aren't exactly selected for their imagination, but they _are_ honourable to a fault…'

Sure enough, the boat had spotted Brynn's act and was rapidly coming in for a landing, revealing four golden-armoured figures aboard it.

'My lords!' Brynn gestured urgently. 'My father – we were walking and he has taken a fall – he's so frail I fear for his life-'

'Easy, lady.' The lieutenant, in a calm act of chivalry that would ordinarily have earned him a commendation from his squad leader, proffered a small bow. 'Help is at hand. Where is he?'

'In the ravine! Please, hurry!'

Two of the einherjar hastened past towards the narrow gulley, leaving the lieutenant to comfort the supposedly-ailing woman and one other still at the tiller of the vessel…and near the communications panel, unfortunately.

'We need him gone,' Jerrick muttered.'

'We'll get him gone. You take the left, I'll take the right.'

The unfortunate einherjar had only the briefest of bewildered glances at the empty ravine before _seidr_ and force had them crumpling silently into heaps. Loki gave the one at his feet a once-over to get a measure of him and then shifted, leaning into his magic to adjust the tone of his voice to an appropriate level.

'Sir, the poor man is stuck! We need help!'

Jerrick ducked sideways and pressed himself against the entrance to the gulley to peer out, then glanced back with a wolfish grin.

'Landed…he's coming through.'

Similarly incapacitating the pilot was an easy task, and Loki switched disguises to that man since he'd be best placed at the helm of the skiff. Once Jerrick was masked as one of the others they stepped out together just in time to see Brynn dragging the now very-unconscious form of the lieutenant back onto the barge.

'His name is Skjold,' she said with a shrug. 'He seems to have taken ill. Clearly we should make best speed back to the palace so he can be cared for.'

'Of course.' Hiding a grin, Loki pulled a little more _seidr_ – Jerrick had been right, it was somehow _easier_ in Asgard, as though the power flowed closer to the surface or something similar – and masked Brynn as the third guard before settling himself at the controls.

'Nothing personal, friend,' Jerrick said to the unconscious einherjar, adjusting the armoured bulk so it looked more like an innocent collapse than a sharp blow to the back of the skull. He glanced up at Brynn. 'He _will_ wake up, I take it?'

'He'll have a headache, but he'll live. What about his friends?'

'They'll wake in the middle of a gulley having learnt a valuable lesson about trust,' Loki said dryly, flicking his gaze back and forth while deftly weaving the skiff between the high towers of the main city. The palace seemed smaller than he remembered. Odd.

'Let me do the talking,' he advised, slowing the ship to a crawl as they approached the platform above the garrison, where the guard on duty was already hastening across with a frown.

'You're back early.'

'Skjold took ill. He needs a healer.'

'Then take him to the Halls!'

'We've a report to make to the captain. Something on the western marches.'

'Oh.' The guard nodded and motioned to another nearby. 'All right, we'll deal with it. Hurry.'

Leaving the unfortunate Skjold to the mercies of his fellows, Loki strode off the skiff and down towards the main floor with all the self-importance typical of an experienced einherjar who was entirely secure in his place in the universe. Jerrick and Brynn didn't have the swing of the gait quite right, but nobody would pay that much attention to a trio of guards in the palace.

It was simple enough to switch course once they were properly inside, and with a suitably purposeful stride Loki led them through the corridors until they reached the main staircase that led down to the vault itself.

At least, he thought wryly, the Destroyer was no longer there to contend with. That still left a dozen einherjar though, and on _these_ doors would be Odin's best. Of course the last time he'd snuck in to acquire the Casket of Ancient Winters he'd been in a somewhat better position to gain access, as Asgard's _de facto_ ruler…

'Sire,' Jerrick said in a low whisper. 'I've a sense of the time, and we're running low on it. The others will be starting the assault on Utgard soon, if they haven't already.'

'Perhaps the need for stealth has expired,' Brynn added.

'I know.' Loki found himself actually hesitating, not liking the idea of killing the guards. How utterly ridiculous! Was he really contemplating the weight of their lives against those of his own people suffering on Jotunheim?

' _Sire_.' Jerrick's tone took an edge of urgency.

'Try not to kill them,' Loki said. 'They're – they've done nothing wrong.'

'No promises,' Brynn muttered, but before he could argue further she had launched a barrage of _seidr_ -ice spears into the neatly assembled ranks, shattering the glamour that disguised them all. 'By the ice, Jerrick, you weren't joking about the power here…'

'There's no way _that_ wasn't detected,' Loki snapped, rather appalled – although, he had to admit, also extremely impressed – by the raw force of her spell. Still, her aim was good. All of the impaled einherjar would live, skewered as they currently were, and most would recover fully under the supervision of the healing halls.

'Then it just became about speed,' Jerrick said. 'Where is the Casket kept?'

'This way.' Abandoning all pretence of stealth, Loki hastened down the steps and pushed the control for the main doors. He ushered them quickly past the various artefacts and pillars to where the Casket sat, softly glowing with power. Power that belonged rightly to the realm of Jotunheim, and had been imprisoned far too long in Odin's keep.

'By the tides,' Jerrick breathed. 'The _strength_ of it…'

'Enough to restore a realm,' Bryn agreed, reaching out tentatively to run her fingers over the nearest edge. 'And a king.'

The chill set Jotun-blue skin colour creeping up her arm until she drew back, looking up at Loki with a new edge of reverence in her gaze. After a moment he realised Jerrick was doing the same, and hurriedly extended his hands, using _seidr_ to pull the Casket into a small pocket dimension while giving them both the resonance key to it.

'Now any of us can reach it.'

A siren abruptly sounded, making them all glance back in alarm.

'Sensor on the pedestal,' Jerrick muttered.

'I think the time for stealth is _definitely_ past,' Loki agreed. 'That'll have the entire garrison on their way down here. If we can close the left-hand approach…' he trailed off as Brynn gestured sharply, sending a vast blockade of _seidr_ -laced ice crawling over that corridor.

'Run?' she suggested.

They pelted up the other staircase without further discussion, hurling bolts of ice and _seidr_ to trip up, knock down or otherwise inconvenience the einherjar now spilling from every doorway. The entire garrison indeed! But Loki knew the back passageways and secret halls of the palace of Asgard better than anyone else in Asgard and managed to easily lose them in the more labyrinthine portions of the lower levels.

Or so he thought, until a lone figure at the last doorway – the one that would take them outside into the city, with a clear way to the Bifrost – stopped him short.

 _Of course, you fool_ , he cursed himself. There was _one_ person who knew the palace even better than he did himself…

'Loki.' Frigga had her short sword drawn, though it rested easy in her hand. Not that her relaxed stance meant anything, of course. _The greatest fighters do not enter combat with a roar, little raven, but with a whisper_.

'Wait-' Loki held his hands up, relieved when the gesture made both Brynn and Jerrick pause '-let us past. Please.'

'You've taken something from the vault.'

'Something that was stolen. Like _I_ was.' He saw the shadow of a frown cross her face and realised, aghast, just how cruel Odin's scheming had been. 'You didn't know. He told you what he told me, that he found me abandoned.'

'Sire, we're low on time,' Jerrick hissed urgently.

'Wait.' Loki kept his eyes on Frigga, praying to whatever powers were listening that she would understand. She'd always been the only one who could consistently see through his tricks. _Surely_ she would see that there was no lie in his eyes now.

Her gaze flickered over his shoulders to his two companions, and when it settled on Brynn he could have sworn he saw the merest echo of a smile curve her lips.

The Queen of Asgard stepped aside and sheathed her sword.

'Go. Now.'

'Thank you.' Ushering the others past, Loki caught Frigga's hand briefly in his and squeezed it.

' _Go_ ,' she repeated, but leaned in to kiss his cheek. 'Quickly!'

Letting go of her – not without reluctance – Loki turned away and raced after Jerrick and Brynn into the nearest streets of the city, ducking hastily into cover as a trio of guards hastened past. There was shouting behind them, the sound of more einherjar, and then Frigga's voice cutting across them, clear and commanding.

'I saw them heading for the southern passage. Hurry!'

'You should not have put yourself in danger.' That was Odin's voice…so the Allfather was leading the pursuit himself. Loki tried not to feel mildly gratified at that.

'I was in no danger. Loki would not lay a hand on me.'

'You assume and trust far too much, my queen,' Odin chided.

'Perhaps I do.' That came out cold, almost accusing, but there was no time to eavesdrop further and Loki ducked down an alleyway, motioning for Jerrick and Brynn to follow him. Frigga's misdirection of the guards would buy them whole precious minutes free of pursuit in which to reach the Bifrost. Then there would be Heimdall to contend with, of course…

Loki didn't bother with any more glamour, knowing that any moving figures on the bridge would be treated as hostile. Better to focus on speed, and making the most of the head start they had over the pursuing einherjar.

'Skiffs!' Jerrick roared in warning, just as a bolt impacted the bridge ahead of them and sent showers of iridescent shrapnel flying. Loki threw an arm up to protect his face and skidded to a halt, glancing back in time to see Brynn summon a hefty javelin of ice into her hands and send it flying up into the air. It skewered the ship's engine like a spear through a wild boar, sending the vessel careening down towards the water trailing smoke.

'Definitely easier to tap power here,' she called to him with a grin, and he could see that she was about to do the same to the second barge speeding towards them.

'Leave it and _run_ ,' Jerrick exclaimed, catching her arm and half-dragging her after him. 'We're almost there!'

Ignoring Brynn's minor complaint at being stymied, Loki raced ahead into the observatory, only to stop short at the sight of Heimdall squarely in the middle of the room with his gigantic sword ready in front of him.

'Shards,' Brynn muttered from behind. 'Is there really no other way to activate the Bifrost than with that damned thing?'

'Unless you'd care to ask Odin nicely if we can borrow Gungnir, yes.' Loki held his hands up and took a wary step forward. 'Heimdall, you know why we're here. We only want to return to Jotunheim.'

'And I am forbidden to permit it, by my king,' the enormous man replied. 'Do not think to best me again, Liesmith.'

Out of the corner of his field of vision Loki saw Jerrick shift and cloak, although to any other eye the older _seidrmann_ hadn't moved an inch from the doorway. With any luck, the shrouding spell they'd developed with Orlyg would also conceal the movement from Heimdall's unique vision.

Brynn stepped up alongside Loki and tilted her chin up pointedly. Although she seemed even tinier next to the hulking height of Asgard's gatekeeper, there wasn't a trace of fear in any part of her demeanour. If anything the open defiance on her face made her all the more regal – every inch a _queen_ – and Loki couldn't suppress the fierce surge of affection for her that welled in his chest.

'The Casket, along with _our king_ , was _stolen_ by Odin,' she snapped. 'If you claim to have any honour at all beyond your blind oaths, you'll stand aside and let us pass.'

Heimdall's ochre gaze seemed almost apologetic as he regarded the petite woman before him.

'My oaths do not permit it, blind or otherwise.'

Brynn spat on the floor in front of him.

'Then you're no less a craven thief than the son of Bor.'

Still seemingly oddly regretful, Heimdall braced himself and raised his sword, but it got no further than halfway down its arc before his arm solidified in place along with the rest of him.

Loki waited a beat, to be sure, and then carefully took the sword out of the gatekeeper's frozen grip, dusting ice crystals from the long pommel.

'Sorry,' Jerrick said, uncloaking. 'Took a moment to get behind him.'

Not bothering to reply, Loki hastened into the observatory and jammed the sword into the control column, twisting until it locked to the appropriate position. With a whirr the Bifrost blossomed to life as Brynn raced inside, hurriedly conjuring a wall of _seidr-_ ice to blockade the entrance behind them.

Something impacted it heavily on the other side and several cracks immediately appeared.

'By the tides, that hammer's a pain and a half,' she exclaimed.

'Let's go.' Loki indicated the portal. 'Heimdall will break out soon and then they'll shut it behind us before it wrecks Utgard.'

Without further discussion Jerrick darted into the tunnel. Brynn hesitated a heartbeat, glancing back at another _crunch_ on the ice wall behind, and then followed him. Turning away, Loki was about to follow when he heard it shatter, and something both extremely heavy and extremely familiar flew headfirst into him, knocking him to the ground.

 _Sharding hell, Thor, I don't have TIME for this_.


	15. For The Dawn

Rolling away, Loki tried to get to his feet and make for the Bifrost, not wanting to get caught in a protracted hand to hand bout involving his adopted brother and Mjolnir.

'Hold still, damn you!' Thor bellowed.

'I don't want to _fight_ you,' Loki shouted back, flipping over onto his stomach and rolling back so he could propel himself upright again. Unfortunately, this put Thor's not unformidable bulk between him and the active Bifrost pathway.

'Then what _do_ you want, Loki?' Thor demanded, braced in a battle stance with Mjolnir clearly ready to strike. 'First you escape and fake your own death, then you sneak back into the palace, steal from the vault and-'

Loki dove at him, conjuring a _seidr_ duplicate as he did so and lurching to the left at the last possible moment while the glamour continued forward. It fooled Thor for just long enough to dodge around him, and he was only two steps away from the Bifrost when another wallop to his back sent him tumbling into the bridge.

Trying in vain to right himself as the universe streaked by outside the rainbow walls, Loki made a landing on icy ground that was more decisive than dignified. Scrambling up, he managed to swing aside just as Thor landed behind him, with considerably more of an impact. An instant later the Bifrost died. Good, Heimdall had taken almost exactly the expected amount of time to free himself and shut down the bridge.

'What are you-' Thor began at a roar, but was obliged to cut himself off in order to bring Mjolnir up to block an enormous ice-spear hurled at him by a nearby giant.

Loki risked a quick scan of their immediate surroundings and grimaced. The field just outside the remains of Utgard's inner citadel was utter chaos. A pair of _brunnmigi_ were stampeding about, although from the way they were destroying everything in their path it was hardly clear who had released them. Ice shards, spears and arrows were flying everywhere, and the air rang with the clash of battle.

'Sire!' Jerrick's shout caught his attention. 'We must get to the temple!'

'What the sharding hell is _he_ doing here?' Brynn added at a yell, clearly meaning Thor.

' _LOKI_!' Sending an enterprising Jotun flying into the air with a direct smack from Mjolnir, Thor whirled angrily back. 'What new madness _is_ this?'

'It doesn't matter,' Loki said to him, 'It isn’t your problem.' In truth, though he hated to admit it even to himself, the idea of his adopted brother's arm at his side for this of all battles was far from unattractive…but Asgard had interfered more than enough with the fate of Jotunheim.

'But-' Thor glanced around, taking in the battlefield with obvious bewilderment '-what _is_ this?'

'This is not your fight, Thor.' Loki suddenly spotted the gleam of the Bifrost re-opening directly above the Asgardian and exhaled in relief. 'Go home.'

'Loki-' anything further was cut off as the bridge whisked Thor away into the ether. Loki set his jaw, turning back towards Brynn and Jerrick, and then had to immediately hurl himself sideways as a blast of frost nearly obliterated him. The advancing Jotun roared angrily and stormed forward, only to be cut off by a neat swing of an enormous stone warhammer that impacted the bottom of its chin and sent it reeling.

'Welcome to Utgard, sire!' Rangvald bellowed. 'Fine day for it!'

'Temple's this way,' Calder said, wading out of the mist and sticking an arm down to help Loki to his feet. 'Best to get moving. We won't keep them occupied for long.'

The sprint across the frigid stone seemed to take hours and yet no time at all. While swords and axes clashed with spears of ice and frost, Loki dodged and rolled around each fight while battling to keep the wrecked spire of Utgard's citadel temple in his line of sight. More than once he had to spring across a gap between cracking bergs and land heavily on shard-strewn boulders that shifted and split beneath his feet, all the while ready to duck if a passing Jotun spotted his fleeing form and took the opportunity to hurl a missile his way.

His legs were leaden and lungs burning by the time the damaged doors came into view. Gasping, Loki half fell, half threw himself through them and landed face-first on the light dusting of snow on the flagstones inside. The unmistakeable sounds of combat were right on his heels but the heartbeat's respite was enough for him to suddenly realise that he'd taken at least one sharp blow to his left side – a ginger touch of his hand left his fingers sticky with blood – and that the ache in his ribs that had lurked since Hrolfsdalr had returned with a vengeance, making every breath painful.

'Nearly there, sire.' Calder was suddenly there, lifting one of Loki's arms up around his shoulders and pulling him back to his feet. 'Just a little further.'

'Seal the doors!' Jerrick shouted from behind. 'We'll hold them here as long as we can!'

'Them doors are fit to fall down!' That was Keila, as indignant as ever. 'Couldn't hold back a sick child, let alone a horde of sharding giants!'

'Then get out of the way and let the man fix them, girl.' Rangvald, rather wryly.

'How many?' Loki wheezed as Calder helped him up the dais towards the pedestal where the Casket had once sat.

'No idea, sire.' Calder said with a grimace. 'We've no way of knowing at this point…'

'No…of course.' Bracing himself on a ruined pillar, Loki staggered upright and glanced down into the remains of the hall. Jerrick had already pulled some ice across to reinforce the shattered doors and was locked in concentration while shaping more. Rangvald stood right in front of them, clearly ready to bludgeon anything that managed to get through, while Keila and Halvor hung back just behind him with arrows ready on their strings. He could see Orlyg half-collapsed in a corner, clearly the worse for wear with a blackened icicle protruding from the centre of his chest. Sibbe was hunkered down by him, grimly honing her knife sharp on a nearby stone. There was no sign of Bjarke or Agnetta or – Loki's chest tightened unpleasantly at the realisation – of Brynn.

'Whatever we're to do, sire, we should do it now,' Jerrick said, glancing back. 'These will hold as long as they may, and no longer. Minutes, if we're lucky.'

'Doubt the sharding room'll hold much longer,' Keila added with a scowl, indicating the debris already raining down from the dilapidated ceiling.

The others turned too, not losing their ready stances but clearly registering expectant hope as Loki dragged himself up to the ice-covered plinth. Taking a breath, he conjured the Casket into his hands and tried not to hear the small gasps of awe as it materialised. It felt heavier, somehow…or was that just his own exhaustion registering?

Hefting it up, he let the heavy chest thump into place on the hollow on the pedestal clearly put there for precisely that purpose.

Nothing happened.

'Is that _it_?' Sibbe exclaimed as a bone-wracking _crunch_ sent part of the doors flying inwards, covering Rangvald with splinters of frost. 'Isn't it supposed to _do_ something?'

'Like maybe stop the roof falling in?' Halvor added at a shout, loosing an arrow into the Jotun forearm that had forced its way through the new hole in the doors.

'I don't know.' Loki looked desperately at Jerrick but the older man just shook his head and constructed a bewildered, helpless shrug.

'This is where the Casket was taken from. I…I don't know what else we can do.'

'We can sharding well stand and take as many of these bastards with us as we can,' Rangvald growled, hefting his hammer.

'Then we stand.' Calder looked at Loki and pulled a blade from his furs to offer it, handle first.

Despairing, but summoning the last dregs of his strength, Loki took the dagger and hefted it to test its weight. It was a makeshift thing of sharpened flint and bone, cobbled together against desperate need. Entirely a Jotsir weapon and, he couldn't help thinking, somewhat fitting.

'Not much else left to do,' he agreed, and stepped down from the dais to take up position with Halvor and Keila behind Rangvald. The doors actually seemed to bend inwards with the next blow.

' _Come out, mongrels_!' a giant roared from outside. ' _Surrender now and your deaths will be quick_!'

'You're a poor liar, Thyrm,' Calder shouted back.

The next blow almost completely disintegrated the doors, and the points of dozens of icy spears began to batter through the remains.

' _You think Laufey's box of tricks will save you, insolent mutts_?'

Loki blinked.

 _Box of tricks_?

_…and the source of their power was taken from them…_

'Rangvald – smash the Casket!'

'What?' Rangvald whirled and boggled at him.

' _Smash the Casket_!' Loki shouted. 'Laufey poured the power of Jotunheim into it when he tried to conquer Midgard. _That's_ what Odin stole! It was never _supposed_ to be contained at all!'

'But-'

'By the ice that bore us, da,' Keila exclaimed. 'Are he our king or aren't he? Break the sharding box!'

Muttering something about lunatic _seidrmenn_ , Rangvald sprinted to the pedestal and lifted his hammer just as the doors exploded inwards and Jotun streamed in like an unstoppable tide.

' _Now_!' Loki roared. The _ettin_ 's weapon came down and there was the deafening crash of a million shards of glass fracturing as one, followed by a blinding flash like the glare of the Bifrost opening on the ice fields.

The air filled with roars and howls, as though every beast of the Jotunheim wilds had suddenly crowded into the temple and decided to give voice at once. A bone-deep cold seemed to expand from nothing to envelop the space, a bleak shadow passing over the pale sun, and for an instant Loki could have sworn he heard a dark chuckle at the back of his mind which sounded suspiciously like Skadi.

_Come you finally to your legacy now, would-be son of Odin the conqueror?_

The surge of power was as unexpected as it was potent, swelling to an irrevocable tide until it seemed to flood through his entire body. It left a strangely comforting chill behind, like the wash of waves on a shore that retreated to leave frost in place of foam.

Blinking rapidly to clear his vision, Loki realised he'd dropped to one knee and hastily forced himself back upright. The others seemed to have fallen back – or perhaps been blasted away – and he found himself standing directly before an enormous figure covered in fur and ornamented shards of unidentifiable metal.

Thyrm.

'Your time is at an end, mongrel,' the giant sneered, hefting his spear. 'You'll die before me like all your bastard kind.'

The power seemed to _throb_ down his arm into the ends of his fingers, and Loki felt as though something deep inside him were cackling and rubbing its hands with glee.

 _This_ was what Odin had stolen, now returned to where it belonged.

Now needing only the barest effort, he called on the native _seidr_ of Jotunheim, feeling it flow and shape itself obediently at his commands. In two heartbeats a falchion of clear ice grew from the air to cover the dagger in his hand, its crystalline edge glinting in the half-light.

Loki saw the briefest glimpse of outright bewilderment on Thyrm's face before he lunged, stabbing out violently with both hands and planting his feet on either side of the entry wound in the giant's chest to bury the blade down to its hilt. Thyrm gave a single gasp, sounding more surprised than anything else, and died while he was still toppling backwards.

The score of Jotun behind actually paused, spears wavering in their hands, at the sight of the lone Jotsir figure yanking the icy sword from the flesh of their leader while still standing upon his fallen foe's body.

Lifting the sword to eye level so that he could sight along it, Loki adjusted his stance warily on Thyrm's rapidly-greying corpse and braced himself for the inevitable charge from the other giants.

'Well?' he asked snidely when it wasn't immediately forthcoming. 'Who's next? Don't tell me the mighty vanguard of the last war chief are _afraid_ of one mongrel half-breed?'

Several of the Jotun exchanged glances at this, and their spears rose again.

 _'_ Not just one, sire.' Calder stepped up beside him. ' _Never_ just one.'

'I'll say aye to that.' Rangvald shifted forward to flank Loki's other side, hefting his hammer. 'Come on then, you old fossils!'

The unmistakeable sounds of two bowstrings being drawn taut confirmed Keila and Halvor's agreement, and out of the corner of his eye Loki saw Jerrick move up as Sibbe helped Orlyg stagger to his feet before readying her own sword.

 _I don't know how to not be alone_.

Again he heard Skadi's chortle at the back of his mind.

 _Then, little princeling, it is time to learn_.

He took a breath to better project his voice.

'For the dawn!'

' _For the dawn_!' The roar that came back seemed to encompass all of the temple and much of Utgard beyond, and Loki saw fear, raw and unbridled, flash into the eyes of the giants before the Jotsir fell upon them. Ice and stone flashed, sending spurts of black ichor flying from severed limbs and falling bodies.

They burst out through the remains of the temple door onto the frost like a hurricane, and although he dimly registered movement behind and on their flanks as other survivors joined the charge his entire focus held on the cold blade in his hands which flowed and twisted and shaped itself at his will to block, parry and strike at anything that got in the way. The air rang with the clash of bone, ice and stone until the once-distant howls seemed to drown out the noise of battle.

'Sire, look!' Calder grabbed his shoulder and indicated. ' _Vargar_! _Hundreds_ of them!'

'Hold!' Loki glanced around urgently at the other Jotsir. ' _Hold_! Don't touch them!'

Within a few short minutes the field went still and silent but for the whistle of the wind and the snarls of the many scores of great-wolves. Bypassing the Jotsir entirely, the _vargar_ as good as herded the remaining Jotun back against the remains of one of the damaged walls, forming a perimeter around the giants of baleful eyes and snapping teeth. A handful resisted and were torn to bloody gobbets in moments, leaving their comrades shrinking away in unaccustomed fear.

A single _vargr_ split off from the rest and trotted towards the Jotsir. Loki banished the blade from his grip with a thought, sheathed the dagger in his belt and stepped forward to greet the beast. The dappled black and grey pattern of its coat seemed vaguely familiar, and he wondered if it could possibly be the same beast he'd met in Blahellar, what seemed like an age ago…

The great-wolf sniffed him speculatively and then nudged at his hand, an impossibly tame gesture for something of that size whose fellows currently had a hundred Jotun cornered. Loki scratched at the domed head as he had in the cave, provoking a low _hough_ and a series of licks.

'Hello, old friend,' he said to it, running his fingers through the ruffed mane. 'Thank you for coming.'

The _vargr_ whined and settled back on its hindquarters, glancing back over its shoulder at the cornered Jotun as if in reminder.

'We ought to slaughter the lot of them,' someone – Loki suspected it was Keila – hissed from behind.

 _Vengeance at such a late hour will serve no purpose_. Skadi's words drifted back and, astonishing even himself, Loki found himself agreeing with her.

'No. That would make us no better than they are.' Laying one hand atop the _vargr_ 's head, he looked over at the remaining Jotun. 'Go. All of you. Beyond the Well, beyond Utlond, past the wall of Gastropnir. The far north where the sea can still be walked upon is yours until the last of you are gone. You'll be left alone, provided you do us the same kindness after so long under your cruelty.'

There was a long silence.

'You can't be serious, sire,' Calder murmured urgently. 'After everything they've done-'

'They're already a dying race,' Loki said to him. 'If they'll step aside, we should let them pass.' A thin smile curled his lips. 'Why do them the honour of a death in battle?'

That got some mutters of agreement and approval, including a dry chuckle from Rangvald, as the multitude of _vargar_ parted to grant a path towards the northern lands. Still wary, exchanging looks that ranged from outrage to grief to outright perplexity, the remaining Jotun began to slowly shuffle along it. The great-wolves closed ranks after them and then began to follow at steering distance.

The wolf at Loki's side accepted one last scratch behind its enormous ears and then rose to lope off after its fellows. He couldn't shake the tacit feeling that the vast pack would escort the giants right to the foot of Gastropnir's sheer, icy cliff, and possibly beyond, before it split off to return to its own usual business.

'Scour the field,' he said, to nobody in particular. 'Utgard is dead, but we'll leave none of ours to lie here unmarked.'

'Yes, sire.' Calder was, as always, first to respond, and with a few quick gestures had the remaining fighters split into search parties to look for other survivors. 'When we have a count…'

'Please let me know.' Loki's gaze was already hunting through the bodies and debris in the immediate area, having come up short in those moving about. Calder lingered a moment more and then nodded, moving off.

 _Where is she_? Loki swallowed, hard, against the pit of dread in his stomach. If the realm was safe, the giants defeated, his throne ready to claim…it seemed like no victory at all if Brynn was gone.

'Not much visibility for a man standing in this _skafrenningur_.'

That was Orlyg, leaning heavily on the remains of a Jotun spear. Although still clutching at the obvious wound on his chest he seemed oddly cheerful, regarding the thickly drifting airborne snow to which he'd just referred with a somewhat jaunty air.

'You've a hole halfway through you, man,' Loki said to him.

'Eh. I've had worse.'

'There you are!' Sibbe hurried over and ducked under the conjurer to take some of his weight, helping him over to a nearby boulder so he could sit. 'What madness made you stand and join battle in this state?'

'I wouldn't have missed that charge for the world, girl!' Orlyg grinned at her. 'Though, if there's a healer still alive, I wouldn't mind this wound plugging. Stings somewhat.'

'Idiot.' Sibbe knelt next to him and then glanced up at Loki. 'Go on. I'll tend to him.'

He hesitated.

'Sibbe-'

'No.' She smiled, and seemed oddly content. 'It's all right.'

'I-'

'Sharding hell, lad, _go_!' Orlyg exclaimed. 'Find her! Before we all die of old age!'

Sibbe turned away and bent to his injury with undue industriousness, so with a last small twinge of guilt Loki moved off into the field. There were many bodies… _too_ many…lying prone and still on the cold ground. He forced himself to check every Jotsir one that he passed, and was mildly relieved when that diligence was rewarded with half a dozen survivors who had collapsed. Each one needed aid to get back to the improvised camp rising around the remains of the temple so that the remaining healers could tend them, but the whispers of gratitude were a scarce balm for the lingering dread that now held a firm grip on his heart.

The small figure with its mass of dark hair was unmistakeable when his questing gaze finally found it, but the way it was hunched down and huddled over made Loki shift to a run with a flare of panic.

'Brynn?' He half-skidded down to his knees at her side, leaning in anxiously to see her face. There was a long, narrow cut most of the way down her left cheek but she seemed fine, except for the way her eyes were open and fixed vacantly on some point in the middle distance. 'Are you hurt?'

Then he realised that the limp form she was cradling in her arms was – had been – Arnthor. Gingerly, he checked for a pulse but the man was as cold as the ground he lay upon.

'Brynn…I'm sorry.'

She blinked and only then seemed to register his presence, giving her head a little shake.

'Another body for the snow.'

'It's over,' Loki murmured, as gently as he could. 'We won. It cost us – _so_ much – but…'

'We won,' she echoed, as if to herself, and finally looked at him. He had to admit being surprised to see her eyes brimming with tears. 'The throne.'

'That doesn't matter,' he said, and was astonished to realise that he meant it. 'The Casket was the key. Laufey bound up all the power of the realm within it, but now it's back where it belongs. The last of the old giants are banished, to die out in time as they will, and Jotunheim is safe.'

'You did it.'

' _We_ did it. All of us. Especially those who…paid the heaviest price.'

'Did they? Perhaps those who survive will see the higher cost.' She gently lay Arnthor's body back down and then looked at Loki. 'How many are left?'

'I don't know. We haven't a count yet.'

'It might not be enough.'

'It _will_ be.'

'There may be others.' Suddenly she stood up, shaking the snow from her hair and lifting her hands to rebind it. 'Left in the north, especially. Our passage south was so swift. Hidden, concealed, just trying to stay alive and away from the Jotun…'

'We'll find them. Brynn!' Loki caught at her arm when she started to turn away. 'We'll find them all, I swear to you.'

'You're needed here.'

'What?'

' _Loki_.' She pried his hand off her arm and covered it in both of hers. 'What you have now…what you've become…you're the king that Jotunheim _needs_ now. To rebuild. To turn the Jotsir from escaped slaves into a _free people_.'

'I need _you_ ,' he protested, feeling how true the words were now he finally uttered them. 'Here, with me. We'll find the others, we will, but-'

' _All I have is rage_ ,' she spat, letting go of him and backing off suddenly as though his skin had burned her. 'It's all I _am_ , Loki! Nothing but the anger. I couldn't have let the Jotun go as you did. I would have slaughtered them all. The idea of – of _mercy_ for them-'

'You have every right to feel angry-' he began in an attempt to mollify her.

'I don't _feel_ anger. I _am_ anger. All I _am_ is rage and bitterness and hate and I _can't_ be what you need me to be.'

'But I can help you to-'

'Loki, _please_.' The note of pleading in her voice made him fall silent. 'You've had the time to regain your own mind. I've seen it. We all have. When you came here you were a vicious and petty little would-be tyrant. Even by the time I first met you in the caves you had little in you but contempt and malice. But now you are so much _more_ , so much _better_ …you left the rage behind. Moved past it, and took back your own fate. Please. Give me the time to do the same thing.'

'Jotunheim needs a queen,' Loki said, hating that his voice broke as he did.

'Then take one. For the realm. We never said-'

'No.' He reached down to take her hands firmly in his. 'I want _you_ at my side. None other.'

'I _can't_!'

 _Find another way_. Skadi's instruction echoed in his ears, and calm reason descended. Even now, distraught as she was, he could see nothing but the dim glow of fury in Brynn's eyes. Perhaps this was why he was so drawn to her; he saw in her the same barely-controlled storm that had once ravaged his own mind. That bone-deep feeling of being so long _unwanted_. The same bitterness and spite that rose and loomed as inevitably as an ancient glacier…

She pulled back from him, gathering her furs about her, and actually started to turn to walk away.

'Brynn, wait.' Loki overtook her with three long strides and blocked her path, holding his hands up placatingly when she set her jaw. 'If you need to go…you should. Do whatever you have to. I won't stop you, or come after you. But-' he sidestepped quickly when she made to push past him '-will you please promise me one thing? Just one?'

Her brows creased in a frown.

'What?'

'When you're done – when _ever_ that is; a month, a year, a century-' he risked a tiny, impish hint of a grin '-come back…come back to me.'

'And if the part of me that returns is no longer what you want? Without the rage?'

'That won't happen.'

'How can you be so certain?'

'Because,' he said, deliberately gentling his voice, 'There's no rage in what I feel for you.'

To his lasting relief her face softened, and she lifted one hand to lay it over his cheek. The merest shadow of a smile crossed her face when he leaned into her palm, covering it with his own.

'Nor I for you.' Then, hastily, as though fearing she'd said too much, she stepped back and hastened away into the snow, her diminutive figure quickly gone from sight.

'Sire?' Calder was suddenly at his side. 'We're scouring the field for any left living, but the ground here is unstable and many of the bergs are still breaking up.'

'Utgard is finished.' Loki dragged his attention back to the present by sheer force of will. 'There's nothing left for us here. Make for the low ground with the wounded. We'll build pyres for all the dead we can, but I want everyone living off this peak before nightfall.'

'Where should we go?'

'Back to the lowlands, near the river. We'll regroup there and make plans for what to do next.'

'Very well.' A pause. 'She'll come back, you know. When she's ready. But a battle witch will…need time, to become something else.

'I know.' Loki glanced back as the he made to move off. 'Calder.'

'Sire?'

'Thank you.' He managed a swallow. 'For everything. Even before we first left Asgard…' then he trailed off, unsure of how to put into words the sudden realisation of how much he'd come to rely on the other man's capabilities and judgement '…if you ever truly doubted me, you hid it well.'

Calder chuckled.

'I'm a poor bluffer. But I don't consider my faith misplaced, either. In my king…or my friend.'

That assertion, even mildly worded as it was, made Loki crack a small smile in response. He thumped Calder on the arm, hoping the action replied better than his suddenly absent tongue could conjure.

'I'll see you back at camp.'

'Aye, sire.'

Once his second was gone – and, Loki abruptly realised, that _was_ how he'd come to automatically think of Calder over the long war to free Jotunheim – he focused on the fallen forms around him with a long exhale. Some might yet live, still as they were. He owed it to them all to find and save every single one.

Lifting a discarded spear haft to help him safely navigate the still-cracking ice, he went back into the field.


	16. Epilogue

_Two Years Later_

Loki woke just before sunrise, as had become his habit, and sipped at the cup of steaming hot moss tea that had been left on his side table by the ever-vigilant Agnetta as he sat up, mentally reviewing his plans for the day. The second harvest was in and looked to have been very good, although he needed to check in with Jerrick to be sure of the yields. Hopefully this year, with the additional forward planning they'd been able to do, there would be no need to send hunting parties out to bring down dangerous _brunnmigi_ from the far north to supplement the fruit and grains.

Of course the population had undergone what Halvor wryly referred to as a _minor explosion_ in the last year, but they'd taken the expected surge in birth rate into account when it came to the figuring to keep everyone fed. Now there was just the matter of a roof for them all, although the main hold was still steadily emptying as more Jotsir families ventured out to build their own homesteads and crofts in the fertile plains of the now-flowing Vimur River. Admittedly the damned thing still froze over for a few weeks at the height of winter every year…but then even the restored Jotunheim would never exactly be tropical...

Ah, yes, he needed to check in with Fasnir to see if his teams had made any progress on the main bridge yet. The ferries being currently used to get people and cargo back and forth across the swift water were only a makeshift solution, but good masonry took time…as the big _ettin_ reminded everyone at every possible opportunity.

Finishing his tea, Loki changed into his day clothes and headed downstairs. The big, low-ceilinged kitchen cavern was a little less busy than usual; the last refugee group must have begun to disseminate out of the hold to the surrounding countryside. He snagged a piece of bread as he passed a table – laughing and dodging Bjarke's mostly-jesting swipe at him for doing so – and finally stepped out into the courtyard.

'Morning, sire!' Orlyg called from his customary perch up on the nearest ledge. Where the hold had at first been merely an adopted set of caverns near the Halsinn Pass, the efforts of the conjurer and his growing team of _seidr_ -shapers were gradually turning the face of the raw rock into one covered with intricate runes and carvings, worked elegantly into the more functional elements like windows. Some of them, like Loki's own near the top, even had wooden shutters from the carefully-nurtured first crop of fresh trees in Nallinfallur.

'We really ought to name the damned place,' Calder said, ambling up to Loki's side and regarding the carven rock face thoughtfully. 'It'll be a _palace_ once that lot are done ornamenting the outside of it.'

'That was the plan, according to Orlyg.' Loki chewed on the last of his bread speculatively. 'Everyone just calls it the Hold. What's wrong with that?'

' _The Hold_ is no name for a king's castle. Not that it's _much_ of a king's castle…not even a bloody throne in there anywhere.'

Loki snorted.

'And where in the world would we put something so useless? As if I'd have time to sit around all day, with everything that needs doing! All the biggest caverns are being used for storage, anyway.'

'I suppose…but once the barns are finished you ought to at least _think_ about it. Still, I suspect you'd just scrawl crop rotations and building plans all over the walls…'

'Well, pardon me for being practically-minded. We _do_ have an increasing number of mouths to keep well-fed, between the refugees and the _other_ means of growing the population…'

They were both still snickering at that when a message runner sprinted through the outer gates and cast about with an undeniable edge of both urgency and excitement.

'Catch your breath first, Gestil,' Loki chided gently as the girl half-doubled over.

'Sorry – sire – there's a group coming in, well past the outer crofts already. At least thirty, maybe more, one an _ettin_ , and a pair of horses too-'

'More refugees?' Calder exclaimed in surprise. 'We haven't had any in months – the last lot swore blind they were the only ones left alive up in the far north!'

'Then they were mistaken,' Loki said with a shrug, already starting for the gate. 'Gestil, please find Agnetta and Bjarke – they'll know what to do. Orlyg! Get down from there and tell Sibbe we'll need somewhere to put thirty more, and to feed them. And those horses!'

Content that the new arrivals would at least have somewhere warm to sleep and something to eat once they reached the hold, he motioned for Calder to accompany him but stopped short at the sound of a familiar booming voice as the two horses clopped into the courtyard.

'… _Rangvald_?' The enormous man hadn't been expected back from his journey to Gastropnir for well over another month.

'Morning, sire!' With a thump that made the shutters rattle, Rangvald hopped down from his horse and then turned to help Keila down from the other one.

' _Cobbles_?' was her immediate greeting, stomping one foot on the courtyard flagstones. 'Who thought these was worth the time with the barns still not up?'

'The people who had to trawl through the sludge after the first thaws every day,' Calder supplied, with a slightly foolish edge to his grin. 'It was an open mire!'

'Most definitely a practical decision, not an ornamental one,' Loki added, trying not to smirk at his friend's over-enthusiasm for the redheaded woman's return. Then he was swept into an embrace not unlike that of a great-bear, and had to prod ineffectually at Rangvald's arms until the _ettin_ finally put him back down.

'You look well, sire! This homesteading business seems to agree with you, eh?'

'Apparently.' Loki cocked his head curiously. 'How did you make such speed back? Don't tell me the deep drifts have cleared as well! Or did you have to turn back…?'

'Oh, no, nothing like that. We made the wall, and the _ettin_ camp there. Not many of them, but they're happy as they are and have no quarrel with the rest of us. They're even trading a little with the Jotun settlement, if you can believe it.'

'Sharding hell,' Calder exclaimed, but looked as relieved as Loki felt. When one of the refugee groups had reported a subset of the more obviously giant-blooded breaking off from those coming south to make for the northern wall, they'd all feared some kind of fragmentation arising amongst the Jotsir.

'They still call the son of Farbauti their king, too,' Keila added pointedly. _'And_ they want da to be their voice in the south, so they don't get forgotten.'

'As if they _would_ be forgotten-' Rangvald began, a tad grumpily.

'I think that's an _excellent_ idea,' Loki said, deliberately cutting him off, 'But that doesn't explain how you managed to return so quickly.'

'Oh, we had help.' Rangvald broke into a grin. 'Someone who'd made the trip before, knew the terrain, used a little _seidr_ to clear some of the paths…'

'You mean you found another-'

Then the enormous, fur-clad man moved to one side and Loki stopped short. In the midst of the group of rough-clad refugee Jotsir was a single, absolutely unmistakeable diminutive figure with dark hair in long braids down her back.

 _Brynn_.

He took a faltering step forward, hesitated for an instant and then froze solid when she glanced up, her gaze flicking around the courtyard before settling on him.

'By the ice, you dimglow, just _go_ to her.' Calder's voice sounded like it was coming from a thousand leagues away, but Loki was still trying to convince his legs to resume moving when Brynn broke off from the group and approached him directly herself.

'This is the last of them,' she said without preamble. 'I've scoured every cave and crevice from Narvesthal to here, and they were all that was left.'

'It _was_ you.' Loki was unable to help the smile that crept out. Each of the refugee groups that had come in from the north had spoken in whispers of the battle-witch who'd found them hiding out in whatever forsaken cave or camp they'd huddled into, the dark-haired sorceress who'd sent them south to the hold. 'I knew it _had_ to be. I just…'

'What did you think I was doing all this time, sitting under a snowdrift meditating?' A lopsided smirk snuck onto her face. 'Did we not say that we'd find them all?'

Loki broke into a smile, the sudden warmth in his chest from laying sight on her again unwilling to remain contained a moment longer.

'Then…you'll stay?'

'If you'll have me.' Her expression softened. 'I made a promise, didn't I?'

He felt his smile broaden into a grin that more than reflected the somewhat goofy idiocy of Calder's greeting to Keila, and suddenly became aware that most of the activity in the courtyard had been suspended around them. A lot of people were snickering.

'We should get these people inside,' Brynn said quietly. 'They've had a hard journey.'

'Yes.' Loki hurriedly cleared his throat and tried to appear brisk, not quite succeeding in schooling his features to a more appropriate expression. 'Of course. It's this way…'

The flurry of activity turned hastily towards getting the refugees fed and settled; all were used to hiding out in nooks and crannies in the wilds since the fall of Narvesthal, and most were reduced to openly gaping at the idea of the Hold, let alone its obvious realisation.

Loki lost track of Brynn as he moved amongst them, learning their names and asking for their stories of how they'd survived. Most were lone survivors who'd somehow drifted together in desperation, but there were a handful of families and even two babies, who were being cooed over by Sibbe and Drifa as they made their rounds with whatever had been bubbling in the day hearth stew pot.

'Thirty four, sire,' Calder supplied, stepping up and glancing quickly around the now-crowded cavern. 'Hungry but none starving. Of course the land's easier to live off now than it ever was.'

'Halvor insists he can barely set a snare without something falling into it these days,' Loki agreed. 'I do wonder sometimes where all these rodents and birds have been hiding for so long…'

'Perhaps your less-than-vaunted sire boxed them up along with the rest of the realm,' Brynn said dryly, materialising behind Calder's left shoulder and making him start in alarm when she spoke.

'Perhaps.' Loki fumbled for words, cursing himself inwardly when none came.

'You've no need to stay,' she added, gently. 'I'll see to them.'

'Not much left to see to now everyone's fed,' Calder observed with only very slightly forced brightness. 'Sibbe and I can take it from here. Sire, weren't you planning to check on the bridge and the outer crofts? Perhaps Brynn could…go with you. Get a – ah – a feel for the hold?'

'I – oh – yes.' Loki glanced at Brynn and couldn't shake the feeling that she was struggling not to burst into laughter. 'Unless you – I mean, have _you_ had something to eat?'

'I'm fine.' Her smile was warm. 'I would like to see the hold, Loki.'

'Of course.' He offered her his arm and tried not to grin like an idiot when she took it. 'I'm sure everyone will – well, that is I daresay plenty will recognise you.'

'I would hate to think I'm forgettable.'

'Never.' Then he realised how unnecessarily firm that had come out and hurriedly cleared his throat, motioning to the cavern entrance. 'Shall we?'

Brynn remained largely silent as he showed her the hold, but – as he'd suspected – many of the former refugees in the caverns and surrounding crofts exclaimed in surprise at the sight of her, hastening up to murmur greetings and thanks. She returned their enthusiasm with soft smiles and nods, exchanging pleasantries and asking after others from the same group.

'So many babies,' she said to him with a small laugh, as they ascended the low rise that overlooked the hunting camps directly by the river. 'It'll be impossible to remember every name at this rate. Is that a bridge?'

'The beginnings of one,' he confirmed. 'The river only freezes now during the height of winter, and the ferries aren't really very practical, especially once the herds increase and will need to be moved between pastures.'

'And so docile! Not like the _brunnmigi_ at all. But then they've all retreated to the far north. Not that I blame them. It's positively sharding _tropical_ down here.'

That made Loki chuckle, but he also found himself a little relieved.

'You're still _you_ ,' he found himself saying, glancing at her.

'Who else should I be, pray?'

'I don't-' he tried to backtrack, lifting one hand placatingly, and gave up when she laughed '-I see you'll still make sport of baiting me, too!'

'I didn't need the time I did to become someone _else_ , Loki,' she said softly, sobering, 'Just to become someone who was…more. More than the anger. Someone who could see past vengeance to whatever might be beyond. Just as you did.'

'And?' He turned to face her. 'Did you?'

'I don't know,' she said with a small shrug. 'I buried as many of them as I could see. That the ice hadn't already claimed. Everyone alive I found I sent south. To you. And then…'

'Then?' he prompted gently, but couldn't stop the thrill that ran through him when she took a step towards him, now so close that their bodies almost touched.

'I missed you.' The admission came out so whisper-soft that for a moment he thought he'd misheard it entirely. 'When I stopped waking angry, when I just _missed_ you-' her hands came up to rest lightly on his chest and he felt his breath catch. She was _right_ there…all he needed to do was dip his head a little and-

'Sire! There's been an – _oh_!'

Loki set his jaw with frustration and looked around to where Gestil was hovering with a vague air of embarrassment, having just crested the rise and seen them.

'What is it?' he asked, amazed at himself for managing to keep his tone pleasant.

'A flash, sire, and a light from the sky – Calder said to find you – it was down by the new crofts near the firs-'

'I know the place. Get back to the hold and find Jerrick, please.' Once the girl had fled at an even more impressive pace than her usual sprint, Loki scrubbed a hand across his forehead in frustration at the interruption. A flash and light from the sky at the edge of the settlement? Surely it couldn't be…

'Brynn, I'm sorry-' he hurriedly looked back at her '-I need to see what-'

He didn't get any further because suddenly she was kissing him and all conscious thought fled from his mind as abruptly as a snowflake dropped into a hot forge. Her hands tangled up through his hair, holding him to her, and he could only stand there dumbly, trying not to openly gawk at her, when she finally broke off.

'It sounds like the Bifrost. More interference from Asgard?'

'Uh.' That came out distinctly gormless, but she'd barely drawn back and her lips still brushed his when she spoke.

'We should check it. Those crofts are…west of here? That path?'

'Yes,' he managed, nodding somewhat over-effusively as she drew back. 'But there's a quicker way, if we cut through the pastures.'

'Show me, then.'

Loki got his limbs to move by sheer force of will, hopping over the low cobbled wall that marked the pasture where one of the fledgling herds of goats would soon reside. When he turned to offer Brynn his hand to help her over the obstacle she had already cleared it and was beside him.

Then she took his hand anyway, and he was hard pressed not to grin like the biggest dimglow in the realm as they hastened towards the commotion near the outer crofts. A small crowd had gathered but Jerrick was thankfully already there, his stern but reasonable tone carrying over the murmurs of the Jotsir peering at the unexpected visitor.

'…no right to step foot on Jotunheim, let alone in the name of the Allfather-'

The huddle parted respectfully before Loki, and he blinked in surprise at the hulking, red-caped figure of Thor, Mjolnir in hand, standing in the middle of everything and regarding Jerrick with a mildly bemused expression.

'-well, yes, I understand your feelings on the matter, but to be fair I never actually _said_ I was here in the name of anyone in particular-' Thor stopped his half-apologetic protest abruptly, immediately adopting a more wary mien.

'Thor,' Loki said by way of greeting.

'Loki.' Thor adjusted his grip on Mjolnir very slightly and motioned at Jerrick with his other hand. 'This – ah – person – seems under the impression I'm here to cause trouble.'

'Are you?'

'What? _No_! Of course not!'

'Then why are you here?' Loki folded his arms and cocked his head. 'Retrieving a fugitive, perhaps?'

He immediately regretted saying that – if Thor was present to do any such thing then they wouldn't be discussing it – as the watching Jotsir visibly tensed, several reaching for their belt knives. As touching as his people's persistent willingness to throw themselves into a fight for him was, he'd absolutely no desire to see any of them smacked over the horizon by that bedamned hammer.

'Not at all.' Either oblivious to the bristling hostility of his audience, or just not caring, Thor constructed an amicable sort of grin. 'Actually, Mother asked me to…well, to stop by. Check in. You know.'

'Mother. Really.' Loki couldn't stop his gaze from flickering sideways to where Brynn had left his side and was pacing warily around Thor with a quietly calculating expression. It was uncannily like the way she'd first looked at _him_ before throwing him into a cave with a great-wolf, and an unpleasant spasm of something suspiciously like jealously reared its head.

'Yes, well Heimdall has been keeping an eye since your – well – brief return, and of course we-' Thor cut himself off again as Brynn drew the long dirk from the back of her belt '-ah, that is _Mother_ thought it was rather worth seeing what you've been up to. Very busy, I see. Very…agricultural. Seems to suit you strangely well. I don't think I expected quite so many smallholdings and that tiny angry woman is about to stab me, isn't she?'

Loki couldn't help the grin that snuck out as Brynn levelled her dagger at Thor's jugular so the point very lightly tickled the skin of his throat.

'Do you believe him?' she asked, disdainfully. 'This… _son of Odin_?'

'Yes, actually,' Loki said. 'I do. He's many things but never a liar.' Glancing back at the assembled Jotsir, he inclined his head. 'Could you…give us some space, please?'

There were some curious whispers and muttering but the crowd did gradually move off, albeit with many backward glances laden with misgivings.

' _Now_ are you going to stab me?' Thor asked, leaning away slightly so he could see Brynn. His brows creased in recognition. 'Wait, weren't you throwing ice spears, back on the bridge in Asgard?'

'You'd remember better if I'd hit _you_ rather than just that skiff,' she shot back.

Thor chortled loudly at that, and Loki felt his hackles rise on idiotic reflex. Not protective, exactly. More…possessive. _Something else for the mighty Thor to take from me and leave in his shadow._

'I'm sure I would have, my lady…?'

'My name is Brynn.' Sheathing the dagger again, she stepped away and paced back to Loki's side, lifting one hand to his shoulder while raising her chin. 'And I am not _your_ lady.'

Thor blinked, surprised but clearly also rather pleased at the intimation. Loki was far too busy trying to stop the fierce rush of fondness that tore through him at Brynn's immediate assertion. The brief pang of jealousy evaporated instantly and he unfolded his arms so he could loop one around her waist; still a covetous gesture, but a less obvious one.

The mild glare she shot him told him that he would nonetheless have to answer for it later.

'I see.' Thor glanced at a now very-amused Jerrick. 'Well. Mother _will_ be pleased.'

'What do you want to do with him, sire?' the older _seidermann_ asked. 'He doesn't appear to be here to make trouble, or he's doing a cunning job of hiding it…'

'Why _are_ you here, Thor?' Loki asked. 'If not to retrieve a fugitive? Don’t tell me you're merely indulging Mother's curiosity.'

'No,' Thor admitted, but did shift to an easier stance. 'The Allfather wanted to know more of the…ambitions of Jotunheim's new king.'

Brynn snorted but Loki couldn't help chuckling.

'My _ambitions_? How about completing the bridge over the Vimur, or clearing enough pasture space for the new herds?'

'I think he might have meant more of the martial variety,' Jerrick said dryly.

'Jotunheim has had enough of war.' Loki cocked his head with a small smile. 'Amassed power in blue boxes rarely ends well for my line, it seems. I'll stick to rebuilding the realm, thank you.'

Thor broke into a broad grin.

'Mother said you'd finally found a challenge befitting your temperament.' Stepping closer, he reached out and gave Loki a friendly clout on the shoulder. 'It is good to see you again…'

The lack of identifier trailed off, a little awkwardly.

'The Jotsir have a word,' Loki said, unable to help a sudden surge of affection for the enormous Asgardian, ' _Valaettkvísl_. I…think it may apply.'

' _Choice-kin_.' Thor seemed to consider the term and then nodded, the grin returning. 'I like it. And yes, perhaps it does apply…brother.'

This time Loki didn’t make any attempt to stop his own smile, and he motioned towards the fledgling footpath that led back in the direction of the main settlement.

'Why don't you come up to the halls? I'm sure we've much to discuss.'

'Indeed.' Nodding genially to Jerrick, and shooting Brynn a more boyish wink that provoked only a raise of her eyebrows, Thor motioned. 'Lead the way, then.'

So, in full view of the watching Jotsir and the distant gaze of Asgard's ever-watchful gate keeper, the sons of Asgard and Jotunheim turned to walk to the hold together.

_fin_


End file.
